The  Story  oi  My  Life 


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f  holograph  by  Marshall  1899 


vil  /icu<m.attl 


THE 
STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

By  HELEN  KELLER 


WITH 

HER  LETTERS   (1887  —  1901) 

AND 

A  SUPPLEMENTARY  ACCOUNT 
OF  HER  EDUCATION,  INCLUDING 
PASSAGES  FROM  THE  REPORTS 
AND  LETTERS  OF  HER  TEACHER, 
ANNE  MANSFIELD  SULLIVAN 

By  JOHN  ALBERT  MACY 


GARDEN  CITY  NEW  YORK 

DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 
1924 


K1" 


COPYRIGHT,    1904,    BY 
THE   CENTURY  COMPANY 

COPYRIGHT,    1902,    1903,    1905,   BY 
HELEN   KELLER 


SPRINTED  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES 

AT 
THE  COUNTRY  LIFE  PRESS,  GARDEN  CITY,  N. 


ALEXANDER    GRAHAM     BELL 

VITHO    has    taught    the    deaf    to    speak 

and  enabled  the  listening  ear  to  hear 

speech    from    the   Atlantic   to   the 

3  DeDicatc 

this  Story  of  My  Life. 


EDITOR'S   PREFACE 

THIS  book  is  in  three  parts.  The  first  two,  Miss  Keller's 
story  and  the  extracts  from  her  letters,  form  a  com 
plete  account  of  her  life  as  far  as  she  can  give  it.  Much 
of  her  education  she  cannot  explain  herself,  and  since  a  knowl 
edge  of  that  is  necessary  to  an  understanding  of  what  she  has 
written,  it  was  thought  best  to  supplement  her  autobiography 
with  the  reports  and  letters  of  her  teacher,  Miss  Anne  Mansfield 
Sullivan.  The  addition  of  a  further  account  of  Miss  Keller's 
personality  and  achievements  may  be  unnecessary;  yet  it  wilj 
help  to  make  clear  some  of  the  traits  of  her  character  and  the 
nature  of  the  work  which  she  and  her  teacher  have  done. 

For  the  third  part  of  the  book  the  Editor  is  reponsible,  though 
all  that  is  valid  in  it  he  owes  to  authentic  records  and  to  the 
advice  of  Miss  Sullivan. 

The  Editor  desires  to  express  his  gratitude  and  the  gratitude 
of  Miss  Keller  and  Miss  Sullivan  to  The  Ladies'  Home  Journal 
and  to  its  editors,  Mr.  Edward  Bok  and  Mr.  William  V. 
Alexander,  who  have  been  unfailingly  kind  and  have  given  foi 
use  in  this  book  all  the  photographs  which  were  taken  expressly 
for  the  Journal;  and  the  Editor  thanks  Miss  Keller's  many 
friends  who  have  lent  him  her  letters  to  them  and  given  him  valu 
able  information;  especially  Mrs.  Laurence  Hutton,  who  supplied 
him  with  her  large  collection  of  notes  and  anecdotes;  Mr.  John 
Hitz,  Superintendent  of  the  Volta  Bureau  for  the  Increase  and 
Diffusion  of  Knowledge  relating  to  the  Deaf;  atjd  Mrs.  Sophia 
C.  Hopkins,  to  whom  Miss  Sullivan  wrote  those  illuminating 
fetters,  the  extracts  from  which  give  a  better  idea  of  her  methods 
with  her  pupil  than  anything  heretofore  published. 

Messrs.  Houghton,  Mifflin  and  Company  have  courteously 
permitted  the  reprinting  of  Miss  Keller's  letter  to  Dr.  Holmes, 
which  appeared  in  "Over  the  Teacups,"  and  one  of  Whittier's 
letters  to  Miss  Keller.  Mr.  S.  T.  Pickard,  Whittier's  literary 
executor,  kindly  sent  the  original  of  another  letter  from  Misi 
Keller  to  Whittier. 

JOHN  ALBERT  MACY. 
Cambridge,  Massachusetts,  February  i,  1903. 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

editor's  Preface vu 

PART  I 

THE   STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

PAGE 

Chapters  I— XXIII 3 

PART  II 

PAGE 

Introduction  to  Letters  .         .         .         .         .         .143 

Letters 145 

PART  III 

A     SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT    OF    HELEN     KELLER'S     LIFE     AND 
EDUCATION 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.    The  Writing  of  the  Book 283 

II.     Personality •  .     286 

III.  Education 297 

IV.  Speech  .         .         .         .         .*       .         .384 
V.  Literary  Style                .        ;.         ,         .                   .     394 

Index  .         .        «.         .         .         .         .         .         .433 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 
Helen  Keller  in  1899       ....       Frontispiece 

FACING  PAGE 

Helen  Keller  at  the  Age  of  Seven    ....  24 

Miss  Keller  and  Dr.  Alexander  Graham  Bell .        .  80 

Miss  Keller  and  "Phiz" 120 

Miss  Keller,  Miss  Sullivan  and  Mr.  Joseph  Jefferson  128 

Miss  Keller,  Miss  Sullivan  and  Dr.  Edward  Everett 

Hale 136 

Miss  Keller  and  "Mark  Twain"    .        .        .        .144 
Miss  Sullivan  Reading  to  Miss  Keller    .        .        .    400 


FACSIMILE    OF    PART    OF    LETTER    TO 
PHILLIPS    BROOKS 


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Facsimile  of  the  braille  manuscript  of  the  passage  on  page  24,  with  equivalents 
—slightly  reduced.  (Underlined  combinations  of  letters  have  one  sign  in  braille. 
Note  the  omission  of  the  vowels  before  "r"  in  "learn,"  and  the  joining  of  the  sign  for 
"to"  with  the  word  that  follows  it.) 


PART  I 
THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

CHAPTER  I 

IT  is  with  a  kind  of  fear  that  I  begin  to  write 
the  history  of  my  life.  I  have,  as  it  were, 
a  superstitious  hesitation  in  lifting  the  veil 
that  clings  about  my  childhood  like  a  golden  mist. 
The  task  of  writing  an  autobiography  is  a  difficult 
one.  When  I  try  to  classify  my  earliest  impressions, 
I  find  that  fact  and  fancy  look  alike  across  the  years 
that  link  the  past  with  the  present.  The  woman 
paints  the  child's  experiences  in  her  own  fantasy.  A 
few  impressions  stand  out  vividly  from  the  first 
years  of  my  life;  but  "the  shadows  of  the  prison- 
house  are  on  the  rest."  Besides,  many  of  the  joys 
and  sorrows  of  childhood  have  lost  their  poignancy; 
and  many  incidents  of  vital  importance  in  my  early 
education  have  been  forgotten  in  the  excitement  of 
great  discoveries.  In  order,  therefore,  not  to  be 
tedious  I  shall  try  to  present  in  a  series  of  sketches 
only  the  episodes  that  seem  to  me  to  be  the  most 
interesting  and  important. 

I  was  born  on  June  27,  1880,  in  Tuscumbia,  a 
little  town  of  northern  Alabama. 

TV  family  on  my  father's  side  is  descended  from 

Caspar  Keller,  a  native  of  Switzerland,  who  settled 

Maryland.     One  of  my  Swiss  ancestors  was  the 

fir.->l  teacher  of  the  deaf  in  Zurich  and  wrote  a  book 

on  the  subject  of  their  education — rather  a  singular 


4  />  THE   STORY 'OF   MY  LIFE 

coincidence;  though  it  is  true  that  there  is  no  king 
who  has  not  had  a  slave  among  his  ancestors,  and 
no  slave  who  has  not  had  a  king  among  his. 

My  grandfather,  Caspar  Keller's  son,  "entered" 
large  tracts  of  land  in  Alabama  and  finally  settled 
there.  I  have  been  told  that  once  a  year  he  went 
from  Tuscumbia  to  Philadelphia  on  horseback  to 
purchase  supplies  for  the  plantation,  and  my  aunt 
has  in  her  possession  many  of  the  letters  to  his 
family,  which  give  charming  and  vivid  accounts  of 
these  trips. 

My  Grandmother  Keller  was  a  daughter  of  one 
of  Lafayette's  aides,  Alexander  Moore,  and  grand 
daughter  of  Alexander  Spotswood,  an  early  Colonial 
Governor  of  Virginia.  She  was  also  second  cousin 
to  Robert  E.  Lee. 

My  father,  Arthur  H.  Keller,  was  a  captain  in  the 
Confederate  Army,  and  my  mother,  Kate  Adams,, 
was  his  second  wife  and  many  years  younger.  Her 
grandfather,  Benjamin  Adams,  married  Susanna  E. 
Goodhue,  and  lived  in  Newbury,  Massachusetts,  for 
many  years.  Their  son,  Charles  Adams,  was  born  in 
Newburyport,  Massachusetts,  and  moved  to  Helena, 
Arkansas.  When  the  Civil  War  broke  out,  he  fought 
on  the  side  of  the  South  and  became  a  brigadier- , 
general.  He  married  Lucy  Helen  Everett,  who  | 
belonged  to  the  same  family  of  Everetts  as  Edward 
Everett  and  Dr.  Edward  Everett  Hale.  After 
the _war_was  over  the  family  moved  to  Memphis, 
Tennessee. 

I  lived,  up  to  the  time  of  the  illness  that  deprived 
me  of  my  sight  and  hearing,  in  a  tiny  house  consi idl 
ing  of  a  large  square  room  and  a  small  one,  in  which 
the  servant  slept.  It  is  a  custom  in  the  South  to 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  5 

build  a  small  house  near  the  homestead  as  an  annex 
to  be  used  on  occasion.  Such  a  house  my  fathef 
built  after  the  Civil  War,  and  when  he  married  my 
mother  they  went  to  live  in  it.  It  was  completely 
covered  with  vines,  climbing  roses  and  honeysuckles. 
From  the  garden  it  looked  like  an  arbour.  The  little 
porch  was  hidden  from  view  by  a  screen  of  yellow 
roses  and  Southern  smilax.  It  was  the  favourite 
haunt  of  humming-birds  and  bees. 

The  Keller  homestead,  where  the  family  lived, 
was  a  few  steps  from  our  little  rose-bower.  It  was 
called  "  Ivy  Green"  because  the  house  and  the  sur 
rounding  trees  and  fences  were  covered  with 
beautiful  English  ivy.  Its  old-fashioned  garden 
was  the  paradise  of  my  childhood. 

Bven  in  the  days  before  my  teacher  came,  I  used 
to  feel  along  the  square  stiff  boxwood  hedges,  and, 
guided  by  the  sense  of  smell,  would  find  the  first 
violets  and  lilies.  There,  too,  after  a  fit  of  temper,  I 
went  to  find  comfort  and  to  hide  my  hot  face  in  the 
tool  leaves  and  grass.  What  joy  it  was  to  lose 
inyself  in  that  garden  of  flowers,  to  wander  happily 
from  spot  to  spot,  until,  coming  suddenly  upon  a 
beautiful  vine,  I  recognized  it  by  its  leaves  and 
blossoms,  and  knew  it  was  the  vine  which  covered 
the  tumble-down  summer-house  at  the  farther  end 
of  the  garden !  Here,  also,  were  trailing  clematis, 
drooping  jessamine,  and  some  rare  sweet  flowers 
called  butterfly  lilies,  because  their  fragile  petal* 
resemble  butterflies*  wings.  But  the  roses — they 
were  loveliest  of  all.  Never  have  I  found  in  the 
greenhouses  of  the  North  such  heart-satisfying  roses 
as  the  climbing  roses  of  my  southern  home.  They 
Msed  to  hang  in  long  festoons  from  our  porch,  filling 


6  THE   STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

the  whole  air  with  their  fragrance,  untainted  by  any 
earthy  smell ;  and  in  the  early  morning,  washed  in 
the  dew,  they  felt  so  soft,  so  pure,  I  could  not  help 
wondering  if  they  did  not  resemble  the  asphodels  of 
God's  garden. 

The  beginning  of  my  life  was  simple  and  much 
like  every  other  little  life.  I  came,  I  saw,  I  con 
quered,  as  the  first  baby  in  the  family  always  does. 
There  was  the  usual  amount  of  discussion  as  to  a 
name  for  me.  The  first  baby  in  the  family  was  not 
to  be  lightly  named,  every  one  was  emphatic  about 
that.  My  father  suggested  the  name  of  Mildred 
Campbell,  an  ancestor  whom  he  highly  esteemed, 
and  he  declined  to  take  any  further  part  in  the  dis 
cussion.  My  mother  solved  the  problem  by  giving 
it  as  her  wish  that  I  should  be  called  after  her  mother, 
whose  maiden  name  was  Helen  Everett.  But  in  the 
excitement  of  carrying  me  to  church  my  father 
lost  the  name  on  the  way,  very  naturally,  since  it 
was  one  in  which  he  had  declined  to  have  a  part. 
When  the  minister  asked  him  for  it,  he  just  remem 
bered  that  it  had  been  decided  to  call  me  after  my 
grandmother,  and  he  gave  her  name  as  Helen 
Adams. 

I  am  told  that  while  I  was  still  in  long  dresses 
showed  many  signs  of  an  eager,  self -asserting 
jdisjXQsition.  Everything  that  I  saw  other  people  do 
I  insisted  upon  imitating.  At  six  months  I  could 
pipe  out  "  How  d'ye, "  and  one  day  I  attracted  every 
one's  attention  by  saying  "Tea,  tea,  tea"  quite 
plainly.  Even  after  my  illness  I  remembered  one  of 
the  words  I  had  learned  in  these  early  months.  It 
was  the  word  "water,"  and  I  continued  to  make 
sound  for  that  word  after  all  other  speech  was? 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  7 

lost.  I  ceased  making  the  sound  "wah-wah"  only 
when  I  learned  to  spell  the  word. 

They  tell  me  I  walked  the  day  I  was  a  year  old. 
My  mother  had  just  taken  me  out  of  the  bath-tub 
and  was  holding  me  in  her  lap,  when  I  was  suddenly 
attracted  by  the  flickering  shadows  of  leaves  that 
danced  in  the  sunlight  on  the  smooth  floor.  I 
slipped  from  my  mother's  lap  and  almost  ran  toward 
them.  The  impulse  gone,  I  fell  down  and  cried 
for  her  to  take  me  up  in  her  arms. 

These  happy  days  did  not  last  long.  One  brief 
spring,  musical  with  the  song  of  robin  and  mocking 
bird,  one  summer  rich  in  fruit  and  roses,  one  autumn 
of  gold  and  crimson  sped  by  and  left  their  gifts  at 
the  feet  of  an  eager,  delighted  .child.  Then,  in  the 
dreary  month  of  February,  came  the  illness  which 
closed  my  eyes  and  ears  and  plunged  me  into  the 
unconsciousness  of  a  new-born  baby.  They  called 
it  acute  congestion  of  the  stomach  and  brain.  The 
doctor  thought  I  could  not  live.  Early  one  morning, 
however,  the  fever  left  me  as  suddenly  and  mysteri 
ously  as  it  had  come.  There  was  great  rejoicing  in 
the  family  that  morning,  but  no  one,  not  even  the 
doctor,  knew  that  I  should  never  see  or  hear  again. 

I  fancy  I  still  have  confused  recollections  of  that 
illness.  I  especially  remember  the  tenderness  with 
which  my  mother  tried  to  soothe  me  in  my  waking 
hours  of  fret  and  pain,  and  the  agony  and  bewilder 
ment  with  which  I  awoke  after  a  tossing  half  sleep, 
and  turned  my  eyes,  so  dry  and  hot,  to  the  wall, 
away  from  the  once-loved  light,  which  came  to  me 
dim  and  yet  more  dim  each  day.  But,  except  for 
the?  ^eeting  memories,  if,  indeed,  they  be  memories, 
it  ?  -nis  very  unreal,  like  a  nightmare.  Gradually 


8  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

I  got  used  to  the  silence  and  darkness  that  surrounded 
me  and  forgot  that  it  had  ever  been  different,  until 
she  came — my  teacher — who  was  to  set  my  spirit 
free.  But  during  the  first  nineteen  months  of  my 
life  I  had  caught  glimpses  of  broad,  green  fields^ 
a  luminous  sky,  trees  and  flowers  which  the  dark 
ness  that  followed  could  not  wholly  blot  out.  If 
we  have  once  seen,  "the  day  is  ours,  and  what  the 
day  has  shown." 


CHAPTER  II 

I  CANNOT  recall  what  happened  during  the  first 
months  after  my  illness.  I  only  know  that  I  sat  in 
my  mother's  lap  or  clung  to  her  dress  as  she  went 
about  her  household  duties.  My  hands  felt  every 
object  and  observed  every  motion,  and  in  this  way  I 
learned  to  know  many  things.  Soon  I  felt  the  need 
of  some  communication  with  others  and  began  to 
make  crude  signs.  A  shake  of  the  head  meant  "  No" 
and  a  nod,  "  Yes, "  a  pull  meant  "  Come  "  and  a  push, 
"  Go. ' '  Was  it  bread  that  I  wanted  ?  Then  I  would 
imitate  the  acts  of  cutting  the  slices  and  buttering 
them.  If  I  wanted  my  mother  to  make  ice-cream 
for  dinner  I  made  the  sign  for  working  the  freezer 
and  shivered,  indicating  cold.  My  mother,  more 
over,  succeeded  in  making  me  understand  a  good 
deal.  I  always  knew  when  she  wished  me  to  bring 
her  something,  and  I  would  run  upstairs  or  any 
where  else  she  indicated.  Indeed,  I  owe  to  her 
loving  wisdom  all  that  was  bright  and  good  in  my 
long  night. 

.  I  understood  a  good  deal  of  what  was  going  on 
about  me.  At  five  I  learned  to  fold  and  put  away 
the  clean  clothes  when  they  were  brought  in  from 
the  laundry,  and  I  distinguished  my  own  from  the 
rest.  I  knew  by  the  way  my  mother  and  aunt 
dressed  when  they  were  going  out,  and  I  invariably 
begged  to  go  with  them.  I  was  always  sent  for 
when  there  was  company,  and  when  the  guests  took 


io  THE   STORY   OF   MY   LIFE 

their  leave,  I  waved  my  hand  to  them,  I  think  with 
a  vague  remembrance  of  the  meaning  of  the  gesture. 
One  day  some  gentlemen  called  on  my  mother,  and 
I  felt  the  shutting  of  the  front  door  and  other  sounds 
that  indicated  their  arrival.  On  a  sudden  thought 
I  ran  upstairs  before  any  one  could  stop  me,  to  put 
on  my  idea  of  a  company  dress.  Standing  before 
the  mirror,  as  I  had  seen,  others  do,  I  anointed  mine 
head  with  oil  and  covered  my  face  thickly  with 
powder.  Then  I  pinned  a  veil  over  my  head  so 
that  it  covered  my  face  and  fell  in  folds  down  to  my 
shoulders,  and  tied  an  enormous  bustle  round  my 
small  waist,  so  that  it  dangled  behind,  almost 
meeting  the  hem  of  my  skirt.  Thus  attired  I  went 
down  to  help  entertain  the  company. 

I  do  not  remember  when  I  first  realized  that  I  was 
different  from  other  people ;  but  I  knew  it  before  my 
teacher  came  to  me.  I  had  noticed  that  my  mother 
and  my  friends  did  not  use  signs  as  I  did  when  they 
wanted  anything  done,  but  talked  with  their  mouths. 
Sometimes  I  stood  between  two  persons  who  were 
conversing  and  touched  their  lips.  I  could  not 
understand,  and  was  vexed.  I  moved  my  lips  and 
gesticulated  frantically  without  result.  This  made 
me  so  angry  at  times  that  I  kicked  and  screamed 
until  I  was  exhausted. 

I  think  I  knew  when  I  was  naughty,  for  I  knew 
that  it  hurt  Ella,  my  nurse,  to  kick  her,  and  when 
my  fit  of  temper  was  over  I  had  a  feeling  akin  to 
regret.  But  I  cannot  remember  any  instance  in 
which  this  feeling  prevented  me  from  repeating 
the  naughtiness  when  I  failed  to  get  what  I  wanted. 

In  those  days  a  little  coloured  girl,  Martha  Wash 
ington,  the  child  of  our  cook,  and  Belle,  an  old  settei 


THE  STORY  OF  MY   LIFE  n 

and  a  great  hunter  in  her  day,  were  my  constant 
companions.  Martha  Washington  understood  my 
signs,  and  I  seldom  had  any  difficulty  in  making  her 
do  just  as  I  wished.  It  pleased  me  to  domineer  over 
her,  and  she  generally  submitted  to  my  tyranny 
rather  than  risk  a  hand-to-hand  encounter.  I  was 
'strong,  active,  indifferent  to  consequences.  I  knew 
my  own  mind  well  enough  and  always  had  my  own 
way,  even  if  I  had  to  fight  tooth  and  nail  for  it.  We 
spent  a  great  deal  of  time  in  the  kitchen,  kneading 
dough  balls,  helping  make  ice-cream,  grinding  coffee, 
quarreling  over  the  cake-bowl,  and  feeding  the  hens 
and  turkeys  that  swarmed  about  the  kitchen  steps. 
Many  of  them  were  so  tame  that  they  would  eat 
from  my  hand  and  let  me  feel  them.  One  big 
gobbler  snatched  a  tomato  from  me  one  day  and 
ran  away  with  it.  Inspired,  perhaps,  by  Master 
Gobbler's  success,  we  carried  off  to  the  woodpile  a 
cake  which  the  cook  had  just  frosted,  and  ate  every 
bit  of  it.  I  was  quite  ill  afterward,  and  I  wonder 
if  retribution  also  overtook  the  turkey. 

The  guinea-fowl  likes  to  hide  her  nest  in  out-of- 
the-way  places,  and  it  was  one  of  my  greatest 
delights  to  hunt  for  the  eggs  in  the  long  grass.  I 
could  not  tell  Martha  Washington  when  I  wanted 
to  go  egg-hunting,  but  I  would  double  my  hands 
and  put  them  on  the  ground,  which  meant  some 
thing  round  in  the  grass,  and  Martha  always  under 
stood.  When  we  were  fortunate  enough  to  find  a 
nest  I  never  allowed  her  to  carry  the  eggs  home, 
making  her  understand  by  emphatic  signs  that  she 
might  fall  and  break  them. 

The  sheds  where  the  corn  was  stored,  the  stable 
where  the  horses  were  kept,  and  the  yard  where  the 


12  THE   STORY  OF  MY   LIFE 

cows  were  milked  morning  and  evening  were  unfail 
ing  sources  of  interest  to  Martha  and  me.  The 
milkers  would  let  me  keep  my  hands  on  the  cows 
while  they  milked,  and  I  often  got  well  switched  by 
the  cow  for  my  curiosity. 

The  making  ready  for  Christmas  was  always  a 
delight  to  me.  Of  course  I  did  not  know  what  it 
was  all  about,  but  I  enjoyed  the  pleasant  odours 
that  filled  the  house  and  the  tidbits  that  were  given 
to  Martha  Washington  and  me  to  keep  us  quiet. 
We  were  sadly  in  the  way,  but  that  did  not  interfere 
with  our  pleasure  in  the  least.  They  allowed  us  to 
grind  the  spices,  pick  over  the  raisins  and  lick  the 
stirring  spoons.  I  hung  my  stocking  because  the 
others  did;  I  cannot  remember,  however,  that  the 
ceremony  interested  me  especially,  nor  did  nry 
curiosity  cause  me  to  wake  "before  daylight  to  look 
for  my  gifts. 

Martha  Washington  had  as  great  a  love  of  mischief 
as  I.  Two  little  children  were  seated  on  the  veranda 
steps  one  hot  July  afternoon.  One  was  black  as 
ebony,  with  little  bunches  of  fuzzy  hair  tied  with 
shoestrings  sticking  out  all  over  her  head  like  cork 
screws.  The  other  was  white,  with  long  golden 
curls.  One  child  was  six  years  old,  the  other  two  or 
three  years  older.  The  younger  child  was  blind — * 
that  was  I — and  the  other  was  Martha  Washington. 
We  were  busy  cutting  out  paper  dolls ;  but  we  soon 
wearied  of  this  amusement,  and  after  cutting  up 
our  shoestrings  and  clipping  all  the  leaves  off  the 
honeysuckle  that  were  within  reach,  I  turned  my 
attention  to  Martha's  corkscrews.  She  objected  at 
first,  but  finally  submitted.  Thinking  that  turn 
and  turn  about  is  fair  play,  she  seized  the  scissors 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  13 

and  cut  off  one  of  my  curls,  and  would  have  cut  them 
all  off  but  for  my  mother's  timely  interference. 

Belle,  our  dog,  my  other  companion,  was  old  and 
lazy  and  liked  to  sleep  by  the  open  fire  rather  than 
to  romp  with  me.  I  tried  hard  to  teach  her  my  sign 
language,  but  she  was  dull  and  inattentive.  She 
sometimes  started  and  quivered  with  excitement, 
then  she  became  perfectly  rigid,  as  dogs  do  when 
they  point  a  bird.  I  did  not  then  know  why 
Belle  acted  in  this  way;  but  I  knew  she  was  not 
doing  as  I  wished.  This  vexed  me  and  the  lesson 
always  ended  in  a  one-sided  boxing  match.  Belle 
would  get  up,  stretch  herself  lazily,  give  one  or  two 
contemptuous  sniffs,  go  to  the  opposite  side  of  the 
hearth  and  lie  down  again,  and  I«,  wearied  and 
disappointed,  went  off  in  search  of  Martha. 

Many  incidents  of  those  early  years  are  fixed  in 
my  memory,  isolated,  but  clear  and  distinct,  making 
the  sense  of  that  silent,  aimless,  day  less  life  all  th? 
more  intense. 

One  day  I  happened  to  spill  water  on  my  apron, 
and  I  spread  it  out  to  dry  before  the  fire  which  was 
flickering  on  the  sitting-room  hearth.  The  apron 
did  not  dry  quickly  enough  to  suit  me,  so  I  drew 
nearer  and  threw  it  right  over  the  hot  ashes.  The 
fire  leaped  into  life ;  the  flames  encircled  me  so  that 
in  a  moment  my  clothes  were  blazing.  I  made  a 
terrified  noise  that  brought  Viny,  my  old  nurse, 
to  the  rescue.  Throwing  a  blanket  over  me,  she 
almost  suffocated  me,  but  she  put  out  the  fire. 
Except  for  my  hands  and  hair  I  was  not  badly 
burned. 

About  this  time  I  found  out  the  use  of  a  key. 
One  morning  I  locked  my  mother  up  in  the  pantry> 


I4  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

where  she  was  obliged  to  remain  three  hours,  as  the 
servants  were  in  a  detached  part  of  the  house.  She 
kept  pounding  on  the  door,  while  I  sat  outside  on 
the  porch  steps  and  laughed  with  glee  as  I  felt  the 
jar  of  the  pounding.  This  most  naughty  prank  of 
mine  convinced  my  parents  that  I  must  be  .taught 
as  soon  as  possible.  After  my  teacher,  Miss  Sullivan, 
came  to  me,  T  sought  an  early  opportunity  to  lock 
her  in  her  room.  I  went  upstairs  with  something 
which  my  mother  made  me  understand  I  was  to 
give  to  Miss  Sullivan ;  but  no  sooner  had  I  given  it  to 
her  than  I  slammed  the  door  to,  locked  it,  and  hid 
the  key  under  the  wardrobe  in  the  hall.  I  could  not 
be  induced  to  tell  where  the  key  was.  My  father 
was  obliged  to  get  a  ladder  and  take  Miss  Sullivan 
out  through  the  window — much  to  my  delight. 
Months  after  I  produced  the  key. 

When  I  was  about  five  years  old  we  moved  from 
the  little  vine -covered  house  to  a  large  new  one. 
The  family  consisted  of  my  father  and  mother,  two 
older  half-brothers,  and,  afterward,  a  little  sister, 
Mildred.  My  earliest  distinct  recollection  of  my 
father  is  making  my  way  through  great  drifts 
of  newspapers  to  his  side  and  finding  him  alone, 
holding  a  sheet  of  paper  before  his  face.  I  was 
greatly  puzzled  to  know  what  he  was  doing.  I 
imitated  this  action,  even  wearing  his  spectacles, 
thinking  they  might  help  solve  the  mystery.  But  I 
did  not  find  out  the  secret  for  several  years.  Then 
I  learned  what  those  papers  were,  and  that  my 
father  edited  one  of  them. 

My  father  was  most  loving  and  indulgent,  devoted 
to  his  home,  seldom  leaving  us,  except  in  the  hunting 
season.  He  was  a  great  hunter,  I  have  been  told, 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  13 

and  a  celebrated  shot.  Next  to  his  family  he  loved 
his  dogs  and  gun.  His  hospitality  was  great,  almost 
to  a  fault,  and  he  seldom  came  home  without  bring- 
ing  a  guest.  His  special  pride  was  the  big  garden 
where,  it  was  said,  he  raised  the  finest  watermelons 
and  strawberries  in  the  county ;  and  to  me  he  brought 
the  first  ripe  grapes  and  the  choicest  berries.  I 
remember  his  caressing  touch  as  he  led  me  from  tree 
to  tree,  from  vine  to  vine,  and  his  eager  delight  in 
whatever  pleased  me. 

He  was  a  famous  story-teller ;  after  I  had  acquired 
language  he  used  to  spell  clumsily  into  my  hand 
his  cleverest  anecdotes,  and  nothing  pleased  him 
more  than  to  have  me  repeat  them  at  an  opportune 
moment. 

I  was  in  the  North,  enjoying  the  last  beautiful 
days  of  the  summer  of  1896,  when  I  heard  the  news  of 
my  father's  death.  He  had  had  a  short  illness,  there 
had  been  a  brief  time  of  acute  suffering,  then  all  was 
over.  This  was  my  first  great  sorrow — my  first 
personal  experience  with  death. 

How  shall  I  write  of  my  mother  ?     She  is  so  near 
to  me  that  it  almost  seems  indelicate  to  speak  of  her. 
For  a  long  time  I  regarded  my  little  sister  as  an 
intruder.     I   knew  that   I   had  ceased  to  be   my 
nother's  only  darling,  and  the  thought  filled  me  with         n^ 
ealousy.     She  sat  in  my  mother's  lap  const  ant  ly,f\jZ^^ 
vhere  I  used  to  sit,  and  seemed  to  take  up  all  her  tjj 
iare  and  time.     One  day  something  happened  which 
eemed  to  me  to  be  adding  insult  to  injury. 

At  that  time  I  had  a  much-petted,  much-abused 

loll,  which  I  afterward  named  Nancy.     She  was, 

alas,  the  helpless  victim  of  my  outbursts  of  tempei1 

and  of  affection,  so  that  she  became  much  the  worse 


1 6  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

for  wear.  I  had  dolls  which  talked,  and  cried,  and 
opened  and  shut  their  eyes;  yet  I  never  loved  one  of 
them  as  I  loved  poor  Nancy.  She  had  a  cradle,  and 
I  often  spent  an  hour  or  more  rocking  her.  I 
guarded  both  doll  and  cradle  with  the  most  jealous 
care;  but  once  I  discovered  my  little  sister  sleeping 
peacefully  in  the  cradle.  At  this  presumption  on 
the  part  of  one  to  whom  as  yet  no  tie  of  love  bound 
me  I  grew  angry.  I  rushed  upon  the  cradle  and 
overturned  it,  and  the  baby  might  have  been  killed 
had  my  mother  not  caught  her  as  she  fell.  Thus  it 
is  that  when  we  walk  in  the  valley  of  twofold  solitude 
we  know  little  of  the  tender  affections  that  grow  out 
of  endearing  words  and  actions  and  companionship. 
But  afterward,  when  ,1  was  restored  to  my  human 
heritage,  Mildred  and  I  grew  into  each  other's  hearts, 
so  that  we  were  content  to  go  hand-in-hand  wherever 
caprice  led  us,  although  she  could  not  understand 
my  finger  language,  nor  I  her  childish  prattle. 


CHAPTER  III 

MEANWHILE  the  desire  to  express  myself  grew- 
The  few  signs  I  used  became  less  and  less  adequate, 
and  my  failures  to  make  myself  understood  were  in 
variably  followed  by  outbursts  of  passion.  I  felt  as  if 
invisible  hands  were  holding  me,  and  I  made  frantic 
efforts  to  free  myself.  I  struggled — not  that  strug 
gling  helped  matters,  but  the  spirit  of  resistance  was 
strong  within  me ;  I  generally  broke  down  in  tears  and 
physical  exhaustion.  If  my  mother  happened  to  be 
near  I  crept  into  her  arms,  too  miserable  even  to 
remember  the  cause  of  the  tempest.  After  awhile 
the  need  of  some  means  of  communication  became 
so  urgent  that  these  outbursts  occurred  daily,  some 
times  hourly. 

My  parents  were  deeply  grieved  and  perplexed. 
We  lived  a  long  way  from  any  school  for  the  blind 
or  the  deaf,  and  it  seemed  unlikely  that  any  one 
would  come  to  such  an  out-of-the-way  place  as 
Tuscumbia  to  teach  a  child  who  was  both  deaf  and 
blind.  Indeed,  my  friends  and  relatives  sometimes 
doubted  whether  I  could  be  taught.  My  mother's 
«Dnly  ray  of  hope  came  from  Dickens' s  "American 
Notes."  She  had  read  his  account  of  Laura  Bridg- 
man,  and  remembered  vaguely  that  she  was  deaf 
and  blind,  yet  had  been  educated.  But  she  also 
remembered  with  a  hopeless  pang  that  Dr.  Howe, 
vdio  had  discovered  the  way  to  teach  the  deaf  and 
blind,  had  been  dead  many  years.  His  methods  had 

I* 

^ 


1 8  THE   STORY  OF   MY  LIFE 

probably  died  with  him;  and  if  they  had  not,  how 
was  a  little  girl  in  a  far-off  town  in  Alabama  to  receive 
the  benefit  of  them  ? 

When  I  was  about  six  years  old,  my  father  heard 
of  an  eminent  oculist  in  Baltimore,  who  had  been 
successful  in  many  cases  that  had  seemed  hopeless. 
My  parents  at  once  determined  to  take  me  to 
Baltimore  to  see  if  anything  could  be  done  for 
my  eyes. 

The  journey,  which  I  remember  well,  was  very 
pleasant.  I  made  friends  with  many  people  on  the 
train.  One  lady  gave  me  a  box  of  shells.  My  father 
made  holes  in  these  so  that  I  could  string  them,  and 
for  a  long  time  they  kept  me  happy  and  contented. 
The  conductor,  too,  was  kind.  Often  when  he  went 
his  rounds  I  clung  to  his  coat  tails  while  he  collected 
and  punched  the  tickets.  His  punch,  with  which 
he  let  me  play,  was  a  delightful  toy.  Curled  up  in 
a  corner  of  the  seat  I  amused  myself  for  hour? 
making  funny  little  holes  in  bits  of  cardboard. 

My  aunt  made  me  a  big  doll  out  of  towels.  It  was 
the  most  comical,  shapeless  thing,  this  improvised 
doll,  with  no  nose,  mouth,  ears  or  eyes — nothing 
that  even  the  imagination  of  a  child  could  convert 
into  a  face.  Curiously  enough,  the  absence  of  eyes 
struck  me  more  than  all  the  other  defects  put 
together.  I  pointed  this  out  to  everybody  with 
provoking  persistency,  but  no  one  seemed  equal  to 
the  task  of  providing  the  doll  with  eyes.  A  bright 
idea,  however,  shot  into  my  mind,  and  the  problem 
was  solved.  I  tumbled  off  the  seat  and  searched 
under  it  until  I  found  my  aunt's  cape,  which  was 
trimmed  with  large  beads.  I  pulled  two  beads  oft 
and  indicated  to  her  that  I  wanted  her  to  ? ^w  them 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  19 

on  my  doll.  She  raised  my  hand  to  her  eyes  in  a 
questioning  way,  and  I  nodded  energetically.  The 
beads  were  sewed  in  the  right  place  and  I  could  not 
contain  myself  for  joy;  but  immediately  I  lost  all 
interest  in  the  doll.  During  the  whole  trip  I  did  not 
have  one  fit  of  temper,  there  were  so  many  things 
to  keep  my  mind  and  fingers  busy. 

When  we  arrived  in  Baltimore,  Dr.  Chisholm 
received  us  kindly :  but  he  could  do  nothing.  He  said, 
however,  that  I  could  be  educated,  and  advised  my 
father  to  consult  Dr.  Alexander  Graham  Bell,  of 
Washington,  who  would  be  able  to  give  him  infor 
mation  about  schools  and  teachers  of  deaf  or  blind 
children.  Acting  on  the  doctor's  advice,  we  went 
immediately  to  Washington  to  see  Dr.  Bell,  my 
father  with  a  sad  heart  and  many  misgivings,  I 
wholly  unconscious  of  his  anguish,  finding  pleasure 
in  the  excitement  of  moving  from  place  to  place. 
Child  as  I  was,  I  at  once  felt  the  tenderness  and 
sympathy  which  endeared  Dr.  Bell  to  so  many 
hearts,  as  his  wonderful  achievements  enlist  their 
admiration.  He  held  me  on  his  knee  while 
I  examined  his  watch,  and  he  made  it  strike 
for  me.  He  understood  my  signs,  and  I  knew  it 
and  loved  him  at  once.  But  I  did  not  dream  that 
that  interview  would  be  the  door  through  which  I 
should  pass  from  darkness  into  light,  from  isolation 
to  friendship,  companionship,  knowledge,  love. 

Dr.  Bell  advised  my  father  to  write  to  Mr. 
Anagnos,  director  of  the  Perkins  Institution  in 
Boston,  the  scene  of  Dr.  Howe's  great  labours 
for  the  blind,  and  ask  him  if  he  had  a  teacher  com 
petent  to  begin  my  education.  This  my  father  did 
£t  once,  and  in  a  few  weeks  there  came  a  kind  letter 

y 


so  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

from  Mr.  Anagnos  with  the  comforting  assurance 
that  a  teacher  had  been  found.  This  was  in  the 
summer  of  1886.  But  Miss  Sullivan  did  not  arrive 
until  the  following  March. 

Thus  I  catne  up  out  of  Egypt  and  stood  before 
Sinai,  and  a  power  divine  touched  my  spirit  and 
gave  it  sight,  so  that  I  beheld  many  wonders.  And 
from  the  sacred  mountain  I  heard  a  voice  which 
said,  "  Knowledge  is  love  and  light  and  vision. " 


CHAPTER   IV 

THE  most  important  day  I  remember  in  all  my 
ife  is  the  one  on  which  my  teacher,  Anne  Mansfield 
Sullivan,  came  to  me.     I  am  filled  with  wonder  when^V  fj^ 
I  consider  the  immeasurable  contrast  between  the  o 
two  lives  which  it  connects.     It  was  the  third  of 
March,  1887,  three  months  before  I  was  seven  years 
old. 

On  the  afternoon  of  that  eventful  day,  I  stood 
on  the  porch,  dumb,  expectant.  I  guessed  vaguely 
from  my  mother's  signs  and  from  the  hurrying  to  and 
fro  in  the  house  that  something  unusual  was  about 
to  happen,  so  I  went  to  the  door  and  waited  on  the 
steps.  The  afternoon  sun  penetrated  the  mass  of 
honeysuckle  that  covered  the  porch,  and  fell  on  my 
upturned  face.  My  fingers  lingered  almost  uncon 
sciously  on  the  familiar  leaves  and  blossoms  which, 
had  just  come  forth  to  greet  the  sweet  southern 
spring.  I  did  not  know  what  the  future  held  of 
marvel  or  surprise  for  me.  Anger  and  bitterness 
had  preyed  upon  me  continually  for  weeks  and  a 
deep  languor  had  succeeded  this  passionate  struggle. 

Have  you  ever  been  at  sea  in  a  dense  fog,  when  it 
seemed  as  if  a  tangible  white  darkness  shut  you  in, 
and  the  great  ship,  tense  and  anxious,  groped  her 
way  toward  the  shore  with  plummet  and  sounding- 
line,  and  you  waited  with  beating  heart  for  some 
thing  to  happen?  I  was  like  that  ship  before  my 
education  began,  only  I  was  without  compass  or 


22  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

sounding-line,  and  had  no  way  of  knowing  how  near 
the  harbour  was.  "Light!  give  me  light !"  was  the 
wordless  cry  of  my  soul,  and  the  light  of  love  shone 
on  me  in  that  very  hour.  i 

I  felt  approaching  footsteps. .  I  stretched  out  my 
hand  as  I  supposed  to  my  mother.  Some  one  took 
it,  and  I  was  caught  up  and  held  close  in  the  arms  of 
her  who  had  come  to  reveal  all  things  to  me,  and, 
more  than  all  things  else,  to  love  me. 

The  morning  after  my  teacher  came  she  led  me 
into  her  room  and  gave  me  a  doll.  The  little 
blind  children  at  the  Perkins  Institution,  had  sent 
it  and  Laura  Bridgman  had  dressed  it;  but  I  did 
not  know  this  until  afterward.  When  I  had  played 
with  it  a  little  while,  Miss  Sullivan  slowly  spelled  into 
my  hand  the  word  "d-o-1-1. "  I  was  at  once  inter 
ested  in  this  finger  play  and  tried  to  imitate  it. 
When  I  finally  succeeded  in  making  the  letter* 
correctly  I  was  flushed  with  childish  pleasure  and 
pride.  Running  downstairs  to  my  mother  I  held  up 
my  hand  and  made  the  letters  for  doll.  I  did  not 
know  that  I  was  spelling  a  word  or  even  that  words 
existed;  I  was  simply  making  my  fingers  go  in 
monkey-like  imitation.  In  the  days  that  followed 
I  learned  to  spell  in  this  uncomprehending  way  a 
great  many  words,  among  them  pin,  hat,  cup  and 
a  few  verbs  like  sit,  stand  and  walk.  But  my 
teacher  had  been  with  me  several  weeks  before  I 
understood  that  everything  has  a  name. 

One  day,  while  I  was  playing  with  my  new  doll, 
Miss  Sullivan  put  my  big  rag  doll  into  my  lap  also, 
spelled  "d-o-1-1"  and  tried  to  make  me  understand 
that  "  d-o-1-1"  applied  to  both.  Earlier  in  the  day 
we  had  had  a  tussle  over  the  words  "m-u-g"  and 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  23 

"w-a-t-e-r. "  Miss  Sullivan  had  tried  to  impress 
it  upon  me  that  "m-u-g"  is  mug  and  that 
"w_a-t-e-r"  is  water,  but  I  persisted  in  confound 
ing  the  two.  In  despair  she  had  dropped  the 
subject  for  the  time,  only  to  renew  it  at  the  first 
opportunity.  I  became  impatient  at  her  repeated 
attempts  and,  seizing  the  new  doll,  I  dashed  it  upon 
the  floor.  I  was  keenly  delighted  when  I  felt  the 
fragments  of  the  broken  doll  at  my  feet.  Neither 
sorrow  nor  regret  followed  my  passionate  outburst. 
I  had  not  loved  the  doll.  In  the  still,  dark  world  in 
which  I  lived  there  was  no  strong  sentiment  or 
tenderness.  I  felt  my  teacher  sweep  the  fragments 
to  one  side  of  the  hearth,  and  I  had  a  sense  of  satis 
faction  that  the  cause  of  my  discomfort  was  removed. 
She  brought  me  my  hat,  and  I  knew  I  was  going  out 
into  the  warm  sunshine.  This  thought,  if  a  wordless- 
sensation  may  be  called  a  thought,  made  me  hor, 
and  skip  with  pleasure. 

We  walked  down  the  path  to  the  well-house, 
attracted  by  the  fragrance  of  the  honeysuckle  wit"; 
which  it  was  covered.  Some  one  was  drawing  wate : 
and  my  teacher  placed  my  hand  under  the  spout 
As  the  cool  stream  gushed  over  one  hand  she  spelk  - ; 
into  the  other  the  word  water,  first  slowly,  then 
rapidly.  I  stood  still,  my  whole  attention  fixed 
upon  the  motions  of  her  fingers.  Suddenly  I  felt  a 
misty  consciousness  as  of  something  forgotten — a 
Vill  of  returning  thought;  and  somehow  the 
mystery  of  language  was  revealed  to  me.  I  knew 
then  that  "w-a-t-e-r"  meant  the  wonderful  cool 
something  that  was  flowing  over  my  hand.  That 
living  word  awakened  my  soul,  gave  it  light,  hope, 
joy,  set  it  free  I  There  were  barriers  still,  it 


24  THE   STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

is  true,  but  barriers  that  could  in  time  be  swept 
away.* 

I  left  the  well-house  eager  to  learn.  Everything 
had  a  name,  and  each  name  gave  birth  to  a  new 
thought.  As  we  returned  to  the  house  every  object 
which  I  touched  seemed  to  quiver  with  life.  That 
was  because  I  saw  everything  with  the  strange,  new 
sight  that  had  come  to  me.  On  entering  the  door 
I  remembered  the  doll  I  had  broken.  I  felt  my  way 
to  the  hearth  and  picked  up  the  pieces.  I  tried 
vainly  to  put  them  together.  Then  my  eyes  filled 
with  tears;  for  I  realized  what  I  had  done,  and  for 
the  first  time  I  felt  repentance  and  sorrow. 

I  learned  a  great  many  new  words  that  day.  I  do 
not  remember  what  they  all  were;  but  I  do  know 
that  mother,  father,  sister,  teacher  were  among 
them — words  that  were  to  make  the  world  blos 
som  for  me,  "like  Aaron's  rod,  with  flowers."  It 
would  have  been  difficult  to  find  a  happier  child  than 
I  was  as  I  lay  in  my  crib  at  the  close  of  that  eventful 
day  and  lived  over  the  joys  it  had  brought  me,  ancj 
for  the  first  time  longed  for  a  new  day  to  come. 

*See  Miss  Sullivan's  letter,  page  316. 


Photograph  by  Deane,  1887 
HELEN    KELLER   AT   THE    AGE   OF   SEVEN 


Mil  about 


CHAPTER  V 

I  RECALL  many  incidents  of  the  summer  of 
1887  that  followed  my  soul's  sudden  awaken 
ing.  I  did  nothing  but  explore  with  my  hands 
and  learn  the  name  of  every  object  that  I  touched; 
and  the  more  I  handled  things  and  learned  their 
names  and  uses,  the  more  joyous  and  confident 
grew  my  sense  of  kinship  with  the  rest  of  the  world. 

When  the  time  of  daisies  and  buttercups  came 
Miss  Sullivan  took  me  by  the  hand  across  the  fields,\>' 
where  men  were  preparing  the  earth  for  the  seed,  tcf^L 
the  banks  of  the  Tennessee  River,  and  there,  sitting 
on  the  warm  grass,  I  had  my  first  lessons  in  the 
beneficence  of  nature.  I  learned  how  the  sun  and 
the  ram  make  to  grow  out  of  the  ground  every  tree 
that  is  pleasant  to  the  sight  and  good  for  food,  how 
birds  build  their  nests  and  live  and  thrive  from  land 
to  land,  how  the  squirrel,  the  deer,  the  lion  and 
every  other  creature  finds  food  and  shelter.  As  my 
knowledge  of  things  grew  I  felt  more  and  more  the 
I  delight  of  the  world  I  was  in.  Long  before  I  learned 
to  do  a  sum  in  arithmetic  or  describe  the  shape  of 
'the  earth,  Miss  Sullivan  had  taught  me  to  find 
1  beauty  in  the  fragrant  woods,  in  every  blade  of  grass, 
and  in  the  curves  and  dimples  of  my  baby  sister's 
hand.  She  linked  my  earliest  thoughts  with  nature, 
and  made  me  feel  that  "birds  and  flowers  and  I  were 
happy  peers." 

Biit  about  this  time  I  had  an  experience  which 

25 
J 


26  THE   STORY  OF   MY  LIFE 

taught  me  that  nature  is  not  always  kind.  One 
day  my  teacher  and  I  were  returning  from  a  long 
ramble.  The  morning  had  been  fine,  but  it  was 
growing  warm  and  sultry  when  at  last  we  turned  our 
faces  homeward.  Two  or  three  times  we  stopped  to 
rest  under  a  tree  by  the  wayside.  Our  last  halt  was 
under  a  wild  cherry  tree  a  short  distance  from  the 
house.  The  shade  was  grateful,  and  the  tree  was 
so  easy  to  climb  that  with  my  teacher's  assistance 
I  was  able  to  scramble  to  a  seat  in  the  branches.  It 
was  so  cool  up  in  the  tree  that  Miss  Sullivan  proposed 
that  we  have  our  luncheon  there.  I  promised  to 
keep  still  while  she  went  to  the  house  to  fetch  it. 

Suddenly  a  change  passed  over  the  tree.  All  the 
sun's  warmth  left  the  air.  I  knew  the  sky  was 
black,  because  all  the  heat,  which  meant  light  to 
me,  had  died  out  of  the  atmosphere.  A  strange 
odour  came  up  from  the  earth.  I  knew  it,  it  was  the 
odour  that  always  precedes  a  thunderstorm,  and  a 
nameless  fear  clutched  at  my  heart.  I  felt  abso 
lutely  alone,  cut  off  from  my  friends  and  the  firm 
earth.  The  immense,  the  unknown,  enfolded  me. 
I  remained  still  and  expectant;  a  chilling  terror 
crept  over  me.  I  longed  for  my  teacher's  return; 
but  above  all  things  I  wanted  to  get  down  from 
that  tree. 

There  was  a  moment  of  sinister  silence,  then  a 
multitudinous  stirring  of  the  leaves.  A  shiver  ran 
through  the  tree,  and  the  wind  sent  forth  a  blast  that 
would  have  knocked  me  off  had  I  not  clung  to  the 
branch  with  might  and  main.  The  tree  swayed  and 
strained.  The  small  twigs  snapped  and  fell  about 
me  in  showers.  A  wild  impulse  to  jump  seized  me, 
but  terror  held  me  fast.  I  crouched  down  in  thft 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  27 

fork  of  the  tree.  The  branches  lashed  about  me.  I 
felt  the  intermittent  jarring  that  came  now  and  then, 
as  if  something  heavy  had  fallen  and  the  shock  had 
traveled  up  till  it  reached  the  limb  I  sat  on.  It 
worked  my  suspense  up  to  the  highest  point,  and 
just  as  I  was  thinking  the  tree  and  I  should  fall 
together,  my  teacher  seized  my  hand  and  helped 
me  down.  I  clung  to  her,  trembling  with  joy  to  feel 
the  earth  under  my  feet  once  more.  I  had  learned 
a  new  lesson — that  nature  "  wages  open  war 
against  her  children,  and  under  softest  touch  hides 
treacherous  claws." 

After  this  experience  it  was  a  long  time  before  I 
climbed  another  tree.  The  mere  thought  filled  me 
with  terror.  It  was  .the  sweet  allurement  of  the 
mimosa  tree  in  full  bloom  that  finally  overcame  my 
fears.  One  beautiful  spring  morning  when  I  was 
alone  in  the  summer-house,  reading,  I  became 
aware  of  a  wonderful  subtle  fragrance  in  the  air.  I 
started  up  and  instinctively  stretched  out  my  hands. 
It  seemed  as  if  the  spirit  of  spring  had  passed  through 
the  summer-house.  "  What  is  it  ? "  I  asked,  and  the 
next  minute  I  recognized  the  odour  of  the  mimosa 
blossoms.  I  felt  my  way  to  the  end  of  the  garden, 
knowing  that  the  mimosa  tree  was  near  the  fence, 
at  the  turn  of  the  path.  Yes,  there  it  was,  all  quiver 
ing  in  the  warm  sunshine,  its  blossom-laden  branches 
almost  touching  the  long  grass.  Was  there  ever 
anything  so  exquisitely  beautiful  in  the  world  before  J 
Its  delicate  blossoms  shrank  from  the  slightest 
earthly  touch;  it  seemed  as  if  a  tree  of  paradise 
had  been  transplanted  to  earth.  I  made  my  way 
through  a  shower  of  petals  to  the  great  trunk  and 
for  one  minute  stood  irresolute ;  then,  putting  my  foot 


28  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

in  the  broad  space  between  the  forked  branches,  I 
pulled  myself  up  into  the  tree.  I  had  some  difficulty 
in  holding  on,  for  the  branches  were  very  large  and 
the  bark  hurt  my  hands.  But  I  had  a  delicious 
sense  that  I  was  doing  something  unusual  and 
wonderful,  so  I  kept  on  climbing  higher  and  higher, 
until  I  reached  a  little  seat  which  somebody  had 
built  there  so  long  ago  that  it  had  grown  part  of  the 
tree  itself.  I  sat  there  for  a  long,  long  time,  feeling 
like  a  fairy  on  a  rosy  cloud.  After  that  I  spent  many 
happy  hours  in  my  tree  of  paradise,  thinking  fair 
thoughts  and  dreaming  bright  dreams. 


CHAPTER  VI 

I  HAD  now  the  key  to  all  language,  and  I  was 
eager  to  learn  to  use  it.  Children  who  hear  acquire 
language  without  any  particular  effort;  the  words 
that  fall  from  others'  lips  they  catch  on  the  wing, 
as  it  were,  delightedly,  while  the  little  deaf  child 
must  trap  them  by  a  slow  and  often  painful  process. 
But  whatever  the  process,  the  result  is  wonderful 
Gradually  from  naming  an  object  we  advance  step 
by  step  until  we  have  traversed  the  vast  distance 
between  our  first  stammered  syllable  and  the  sweep 
of  thought  in  a  line  of  Shakespeare. 

At  first,  when  my  teacher  told  me  about  a  new 
thing  I  asked  very  few  questions.  My  ideas  were 
vague,  and  my  vocabulary  was  inadequate;  but  as 
my  knowledge  of  things  grew,  and  I  learned  more 
and  more  words,  my  field  of  inquiry  broadened, 
and  I  would  return  again  and  again  to  the  same 
subject,  eager  for  further  information.  Sometimes 
a  new  word  revived  an  image  that  some  earlier 
experience  had  engraved  on  my  brain. 

I  remember  the  morning  that  I  first  asked  the 
meaning  of  the  word,/ 'love."  This  was  before  I 
knew  many  words.  I  had  found  a  few  early  violets 
in  the  garden  and  brought  them  to  my  teacher. 
She  tried  to  kiss  me ;  but  at  that  time  I  did  not  like 
to  have  any  one  kiss  me  except  my  mother.  Miss 
Sullivan  put  her  arm  gently  round  me  and  spelled 
into  my  hand.  "I  love  Helen." 


30  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

"What  is  love?"  I  asked. 

She  drew  me  closer  to  her  and  said,  "It  is  here,'* 
pointing  to  my  heart,  whose  beats  I  was  conscious 
of  for  the  first  time.  Her  words  puzzled  me  very 
much  because  I  did  not  then  understand  anything 
unless  I  touched  it. 

I  smelt  the  violets  in  her  hand  and  asked,  half 
in  words,  half  in  signs,  a  question  which  meant, 
"Is  love  the  sweetness  of  flowers?" 

"No,"  said  my  teacher. 

Again  I  thought.  The  warm  sun  was  shining 
onus. 

"Is  this  not  love?"  I  asked,  pointing  in  the 
direction  from  which  the  heat  came,  "Is  this  not 
love?" 

It  seemed  to  me  that  there  could  be  nothing  more 
beautiful  than  the  sun,  whose  warmth  makes  all 
things  grow.  But  Miss  Sullivan  shook  her  head, 
and  I  was  greatly  puzzled  and  disappointed.  I 
thought  it  strange  that  my  teacher  could  not  show 
me  love. 

A  day  or  two  afterward  I  was  stringing  beads  of 
different  sizes  in  symmetrical  groups — two  large 
beads,  three  small  ones,  and  so  on.  I  had  made 
many  mistakes,  and  Miss  Sullivan  had  pointed 
them  out  again  and  again  with  gentle  patience. 
Finally  I  noticed  a  very  obvious  error  in  the 
sequence  and  for  an  instant  I  concentrated  my  atten 
tion  on  the  lesson  and  tried  to  think  how  I  should 
have  arranged  the  beads.  Miss  Sullivan  touched 
my  forehead  and  spelled  with  decided  emphasis, 
"Think." 

In  a  flash  I  knew  that  the  word  was  the  name  of 
the  process  that  was  going  on  in  my  head.  This 


TEE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  31 

was  my  first  conscious  perception  of  an  abstract 
idea. 

For  a  long  time  I  was  still — I  was  not  thinking  of 
the  beads  in  my  lap,  but  trying  to  find  a  meaning 
for  "love"  in  the  light  of  this  new  idea.  The  sun 
had  been  under  a  cloud  all  day,  and  there  had  been 
brief  showers;  but  suddenly  the  sun  broke  forth  in 
iall  its  southern  splendour. 

Again  I  asked  my  teacher,  "Is  this  not  love  ?" 

"Love  is  something  like  the  clouds  that  were  in 
the  sky  before  the  sun  came  out,"  she  replied. 
Then  in  simpler  words  than  these,  which  at  that 
time  I  could  not  have  understood,  she  explained: 
"You  cannot  touch  the  clouds,  you  know;  but  you 
feel  the  rain  and  know  how  glad  the  flowers  and  the 
thirsty  earth  are  to  have  it  after  a  hot  day.  You 
cannot  touch  love  either ;  but  you  feel  the  sweetness 
that  it  pours  into  everything.  Without  love  you 
would  not  be  happy  or  want  to  play." 

The  beautiful  truth  burst  upon  my  mind — I  felt 
that  there  were  invisible  lines  stretched  between 
my  spirit  and  the  spirits  of  others. 

From  the  beginning  of  my  education  Miss  Sullivan 
made  it  a  practice  to  speak  to  me  as  she  would  speak 
to  any  hearing  child ;  the  only  difference  was  that 
she  spelled  the  sentences  into  my  hand  instead  of 
speaking  them.  If  I  did  not  know  the  words  and 
idioms  necessary  to  express  my  thoughts  she  sup 
plied  them,  even  suggesting  conversation  when 
I  was  unable  to  keep  up  my  end  of  the  dialogue. 

This  process  was  continued  for  several  years;  for 
the  deaf  child  does  not  learn  in  a  month,  or  even 
in  two  or  three  years,  the  numberless  idioms  and 
expressions  used  in  the  simplest  daily  intercourse. 


32  THE  STORY  OF  MY  lylFE 

The  little  hearing  child  learns  these  from  constant 
repetition  and  imitation.  The  conversation  he 
hears  in  his  home  stimulates  his  mind  and  suggests 
topics  and  calls  forth  the  spontaneous  expression  of 
his  own  thoughts.  This  natural  exchange  of  ideas  is 
denied  to  the  deaf  child.  My  teacher,  realizing  this, 
determined  to  supply  the  kinds  of  stimulus  I  lacked. 
This  she  did  by  repeating  to  me  as  far  as  possible, 
verbatim,  what  she  heard,  and  by  showing  me  how 
I  could  take  part  in  the  conversation.  But  it  was  a 
long  time  before  I  ventured  to  take  the  initiative, 
and  still  longer  before  I  could  find  something 
appropriate  to  say  at  the  right  time. 

The  deaf  and  the  blind  find  it  very  difficult  to 
acquire  the  amenities  of  conversation.  How  much 
more  this  difficulty  must  be  augmented  in  the  case  of 
those  who  are  both  deaf  and  blind  !  They  cannot 
distinguish  the  tone  of  the  voice  or,  without  assist 
ance,  go  up  and  down  the  gamut  of  tones  that 
give  significance  to  words;  nor  can  they  watch 
the  expression  of  the  speaker's  face,  and  a  look  is 
often  the  very  soul  of  what  one  says. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  next  important  step  in  my  education  was 
learning  to  read. 

As  soon  as "I  could  spell  a  few  words  my  teacher 
gave  me  slips  of  cardboard  on  which  were  printed 
words  in  raised  letters.  I  quickly  learned  that  each 
printed  word  stood  for  an  object,  an  act,  or  a  quality. 
I  had  a  frame  in  which  I  could  arrange  the  words 
in  little  sentences;  but  before  I  ever  put  sentences 
in  the  frame  I  used  to  make  them  in  objects.  I 
found  the  slips  of  paper  which  represented,  for 
example,  "doll,"  "is,"  "on,"  "bed"  and  placed 
each  name  on  its  object;  then  I  put  my  doll  on  the 
bed  with  the  words  is,  on,  bed  arranged  beside  the 
doll,  thus  making  a  sentence  of  the  words,  and  at 
the  same  time  carrying  out  the  idea  of  the  sentence 
with  the  things  themselves. 

One  day,  Miss  Sullivan  tells  me,  I  pinned  the  word 
girl  on  my  pinafore  and  stood  in  the  wardrobe. 
On  the  shelf  I  arranged  the  words,  is,  in, 
wardrobe.  Nothing  delighted  me  so  much  as 
this  game.  My  teacher  and  I  played  it  for  hours 
at  a  time.  ^  Of  t^  pyery  thing  in  the  roomw-as 
^arranged  in  object  sentences. 

From  the  printed  slip  it  was  but  a  step  to  the 
printed  book.  I  took  my  "Reader  for  Beginners" 
and  hunted  for  the  words  I  knew;  when  I  found 
them  my  joy  was  like  that  of  a  game  of  hide- 
and-seek.  Thus  I  began  to  read.  Of  the  time 

33 


34  THE   STORY  OF   MY   LIFE 

when  I  began  to   read  connected   stories    I    shaft 
speak  later. 

For  a  long  time  I  had  no  regular  lessons.  Even 
when  I  studied  most  earnestly  it  seemed  more 
like  play  than  work.  Everything  Miss  Sullivan 
taught  me  she  illustrated  by  a  beautiful  story  or  a 
poem.  Whenever  anything  delighted  or  interested 
me  she  talked  it  over  vjith  me  just  as  if  she  were  a 
little  girl  herseh".  What  many  children  think  of 
with  dread,  as  a  painful  plodding  through  grammar, 
hard  sums  and  harder  definitions,  is  to-day  one  of 
my  most  precious  memories. 

iW»y*  -TO  I    cannot    explain    the  peculiar  sympathy    Miss 
**v      jXoulIivan  had  with  my  pleasures  and  desires.    Perhaps 
•Jf/|lr       it    was    the    result    of    long   association  with   the 
*yX'    blind.     Added  to  this  she  had  a  wonderful  faculty 
for  description.     She  went  quickly  over  uninterest 
ing  details,  and  never  nagged  me  with   questions 
to  see  if  I  remembered  the  day-bef ore-yesterday's 
lesson.     She  introduced  dry  technicalities  of  science 
little  by  little,  making  every  subject  so  real  that  I 
could  not  help  remembering  what  she  taught. 

We  read  and  studied  out  of  doors,  preferring  the 
sunlit  woods  to  the  house.     All  my  early  lessons  have 
/      in  them  the  breath  of  the  woods — the  fine,  resinous 
W^     odour  of  pine  needles,  blended  with  the  perfume  of 
>- \       wild  grapes.     Seated  in  the  gracious  shade  of  a  wild 
tulip  tree,  I  learned  to  think  that  everything  has  a 
lesson  and  a  suggestion.     "The  loveliness  of  things 
taught  me  all  their  use."     Indeed,  everything  that 
could  hum,  or  buzz,  or  sing,  or  bloom,  had  a  part  in 
my  education — noisy-throated  frogs,  katydids  and 
crickets  held  in   my  hand  until,   forgetting  theif 
embarrassment,  they  trilled  their  reedy  note,  littls 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  35 

downy  chickens  and  wildflowers,  the  dogwood 
blossoms,  meadow-violets  and  budding  fruit  trees. 
I  felt  the  bursting  cotton-bolls  and  fingered  their  soft 
fiber  and  fuzzy  seeds;  I  felt  the  low  soughing  of  the 
wind  through  the  cornstalks,  the  silky  rustling  of 
the  long  leaves,  and  the  indignant  snort  of  my  pony, 
as  we  caught  him  in  the  pasture  and  put  the  bit  in 
his  mouth — ah  me!  how  well  I  remember  the  spicy, 
clovery  smell  of  his  breath! 

Sometimes  I  rose  at  dawn  and  stole  into  the 
garden  while  the  heavy  dew  lay  on  the  grass  and 
flowers.  Few  know  what  joy  it  is  to  feel  the  roses 
pressing  softly  into  the  hand,  or  the  beautiful  motion 
of  the  lilies  as  they  sway  in  the  morning  breeze. 
Sometimes  I  caught  an  insect  in  the  flower  I  was 
plucking,  and  I  felt  the  faint  noise  of  a  pair  of  wings 
rubbed  together  in  a  sudden  terror,  as  the  little 
creature  became  aware  of  a  pressure  from  without. 

Another  favourite  haunt  of  mine  was  the  orchard, 
where  the  fruit  ripened  early  in  July.  The  large, 
downy  peaches  would  reach  themselves  into  my 
hand,  and  as  the  joyous  breezes  flew  about  the  trees 
the  apples  tumbled  at  my  feet.  Oh,  the  delight 
with  which  I  gathered  up  the  fruit  in  my  pinafore, 
pressed  my  face  against  the  smooth  cheeks  of  the 
apples,  still  warm  from  the  sun,  and  skipped  back 
to  the  house! 

Our  favourite  walk  was  to  Keller's  Landing,  an  old 
tumble-down  lumber-wharf  on  the  Tennessee  River, 
used  during  the  Civil  War  to  land  soldiers.  There 
we  spent  many  happy  hours  and  played  at  learning 
geography.  I  built  dams  of  pebbles,  made  islands 
and  lakes,  and  dug  river-beds,  all  for  fun,  and  never 
dreamed  that  I  was  learning  a  lesson.  I  listened 


36  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

with  increasing  wonder  to  Miss  Sullivan's  descrip 
tions  of  the  great  round  world  with  its  burning 
mountains,  buried  cities,  moving  rivers  of  ice,  and 
,many  other  things  as  strange.  She  made  raised 
maps  in  clay,  so  that  I  could  feel  the  mountain 
ridges  and  valleys,  and  follow  with  my  fingers  the 
devious  course  of  rivers.  I  liked  this,  too ;  but  the 
division  of  the  earth  into  zones  and  poles  confused 
and  teased  my  mind.  The  illustrative  strings  and 
the  orange  stick  representing  the  poles  seemed  so 
real  that  even  to  this  day  the  mere  mention  of 
temperate  zone  suggests  a  series  of  twine  circles; 
and  I  believe  that  if  any  one  should  set  about  it 
he  could  convince  me  that  white  bears  actually 
climb  the  North  Pole. 

Arithmetic  seems  to  have  been  the  only  study  1 
did  not  like.  From  the  first  I  was  not  interested 
in  the  science  of  numbers.  Miss  Sullivan  tried  to 
teach  me  to  count  by  stringing  beads  in  groups,  and 
by  arranging  kintergarten  straws  I  learned  to  add 
and  subtract.  I  never  had  patience  to  arrange 
more  than  five  or  six  groups  at  a  time.  When  I 
had  accomplished  this  my  conscience  was  at  rest 
for  the  day,  and  I  went  out  quickly  to  find  my 
playmates. 

In  this  same  leisurely  manner  I  studied  zoology 
and  botany. 

Once  a  gentleman,  whose  name  I  have  forgotten, 
sent  me  a  collection  of  fossils — tiny  mollusk  shells 
beautifully  marked,  and  bits  of  sandstone  with  the 
print  of  birds'  claws,  and  a  lovely  fern  in  bas-relief. 
These  were  the  keys  which  unlocked  the  treasures 
of  the  antediluvian  world  for  me.  With  trembling 
fingers  I  listened  to  Miss  Sullivan's  descriptions  of 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  37 

the  terrible  beasts,  with  uncouth,  unpronounceable 
names,  which  once  went  tramping  through  the 
primeval  forests,  tearing  down  the  branches  of 
gigantic  trees  for  food,  and  died  in  the  dismal 
swamps  of  an  unknown  age.  For  a  long  time  these 
strange  creatures  haunted  my  dreams,  and  this 
gloomy  period  formed  a  somber  background  to 
the  joyous  Now,  filled  with  sunshine  and  roses 
and  echoing  with  the  gentle  beat  of  my  pony's 
hoof. 

Another  time  a  beautiful  shell  was  given  me,  and  \ 
with  a  child's  surprise  and  delight  I  learned  how  a 
tiny  mollusk  had  built  the  lustrous  coil  for  his  dwell 
ing  place,  and  how  on  still  nights,  when  there  is  no 
breeze  stirring  the  waves,  the  Nautilus  sails  on  the 
blue  waters  of  the  Indian  Ocean  in  his  "ship  of 
pearl."  After  I  had  learned  a  great  many  interest 
ing  things  about  the  life  and  habits  of  the  children 
of  the  sea— how  in  the  midst  of  dashing  waves  the 
little  polyps  build  the  beautiful  coral  isles  of  the 
Pacific,  and  the  foraminifera  have  made  the  chalk- 
hills  of  many  a  land — my  teacher  read  me  "The 
Chambered  Nautilus,"  and  showed  me  that  the 
shell-building  process  of  the  mollusks  is  symbolical 
of  the  development  of  the  mind.  Just  as  the  wonder- 
working  mantle  of  the  Nautilus  changes  the  material 
it  absorbs  from  the  water  and  makes  it  a  part  of 
itself,  so  the  bits  of  knowledge  one  gathers 
undergo  a  similar  change  and  become  pearls  of 
thought. 

Again,  it  was  the  growth  of  a  plant  that  furnished 
the  text  for  a  lesson.  We  bought  a  lily  and  set  it  in 
a  sunny  window.  Very  soon  the  green,  pointed  buds 
showed  signs  of  opening.  The  slender,  fingerlike 


38  THE   STORY  OF   MY  LIFE 

leaves  on  the  outside  opened  slowly,  reluctant,  I 
thought,  to  reveal  the  loveliness  they  hid;  once 
having  made  a  start,  however,  the  opening  process 
went  on  rapidly,  but  in  order  and  systematically. 
There  was  always  one  bud  larger  and  more  beau 
tiful  than  the  rest,  which  pushed  her  outer  covering 
back  with  more  pomp,  as  if  the  beauty  in  soft,  silky 
robes  knew  that  she  was  the  lily-queen  by  right 
divine,  while  her  more  timid  sisters  doffed  their 
green  hoods  shyly,  until  the  whole  plant  was  one 
nodding  bough  of  loveliness  and  fragrance. 

Once  there  were  eleven  tadpoles  in  a  glass  globe 
set  in  a  window  full  of  plants.  I  remember  the 
eagerness  with  which  I  made  discoveries  about  them. 
It  was  great  fun  to  plunge  my  hand  into  the  bowl 
and  feel  the  tadpoles  frisk  about,  and  to  let  them 
slip  and  slide  between  my  fingers.  One  day  a  more 
ambitious  fellow  leaped  beyond  the  edge  of  the  bowl 
and  fell  on  the  floor,  where  I  found  him  to  all 
appearance  more  dead  than  alive.  The  only  sign  of 
life  was  a  slight  wriggling  of  his  tail.  But  no  sooner 
had  he  returned  to  his  element  than  he  darted  to 
the  bottom,  swimming  round  and  round  in  joyous 
activity.  He  had  made  his  leap,  he  had  seen  the 
great  world,  and  was  content  to  stay  in  his  pretty 
glass  house  under  the  big  fuchsia  tree  until  he' 
attained  the  dignity  of  froghood.  Then  he  went  to 
live  in  the  leafy  pool  at  the  end  of  the  garden, 
where  he  made  the  summer  nights  musical  with  his 
quaint  love-song. 

Thus  I  learned  from  life  itself.  At  the  beginning 
I  was  only  a  little  mass  of  possibilities.  It  was  my 
teacher  who  unfolded  and  developed  them.  When 
she  came,  everything  about  me  breathed  of  love  and 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  39 

joy  and  was  full  of  meaning.  She  has  never  since 
let  pass  an  opportunity  to  point  out  the  beauty  that 
is  in  everything,  nor  has  she  ceased  trying  in  thought 
and  action  and  example  to  make  my  life  sweet  and 
useful. 

It  was  my  teacher's  genius,  her  quick  sympathy, 
her  loving  tact  which  made  the  first  years  of  my 
education  so  beautiful.  It  was  because  she  seized 
the  right  moment  to  impart  knowledge  that  made 
it  so  pleasant  and  acceptable  to  me.  She  realized 
that  a  child's  mind  is  like  a  shallow  brook  which 
ripples  and  dances  merrily  over  the  stony  course  of 
its  education  and  reflects  here  a  flower,  there  a 
bush,  yonder  a  fleecy  cloud;  and  she  attempted  to 
guide  my  mind  on  its  way,  knowing  that  like  a 
brook  it  should  be  fed  by  mountain  streams  and 
hidden  springs,  until  it  broadened  out  into  a  deep 
river,  capable  of  reflecting  in  its  placid  surface, 
billowy  hills,  the  luminous  shadows  of  trees  and 
the  blue  heavens,  as  well  as  the  sweet  face  of  a 
little  flower. 

Any  teacher  can  take  a  child  to  the  classroom, 
but  not  every  teacher  can  make  him  learn.  He 
will  not  work  joyously  unless  he  feels  that  liberty  is 
his,  whether  he  is  busy  or  at  rest ;  he  must  feel  the 
flush  of  victory  and  the  heart-sinking  of  disappoint 
ment  before  he  takes  with  a  will  the  tasks  distasteful 
to  him  and  resolves  to  dance  his  way  bravely  through 
a  dull  routine  of  textbooks. 

My  teacher  is  so  near  to  me  that  I  scarcely  think 
of  myself  apart  from  her.  How  much  of  my  delight 
in  all  beautiful  things  is  innaf~\  and  how  much  is 
due  to  her  influence,  I  can  never  tell.  I  feel  that 
her  being  is  inseparable  from  my  own,  and  that 


40  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

the  footsteps  of  my  life  are  in  hers.  All  the  best 
of  me  belongs  to  her — there  is  not  a  talent,  or  an 
aspiration  or  a  joy  in  me  that  has  not  been  awakened 
by  her  loving  touch. 


CHAPTER  Vin 

THE  first  Christmas  after  Miss  Sullivan  came  to 
Tuscumbia  was  a  great  event.  Every  one  in  the 
family  prepared  surprises  for  me ;  but  what  pleased 
me  most,  Miss  Sullivan  and  I  prepared  surprises  for 
everybody  else.  The  mystery  that  surrounded  the 
gifts  was  my  greatest  delight  and  amusement.  My 
friends  did  all  they  could  to  excite  my  curiosity  by 
hints  and  half-spelled  sentences  which  they  pre 
tended  to  break  off  in  the  nick  of  time.  Miss  Sullivan 
and  I  kept  up  a  game  of  guessing  which  taught  me 
more  about  the  use  of  language  than  any  set  lessons 
could  have  done.  Every  evening,  seated  round  a 
glowing  wood  fire,  we  played  our  guessing  game, 
which  grew  more  and  more  exciting  as  Christmas 
approached. 

On  Christmas  Eve  the  Tuscumbia  schoolchildren 
had  their  tree,  to  which  they  invited  me.  In  the 
centre  of  the  schoolroom  stood  a  beautiful  tree 
ablaze  and  shimmering  in  the  soft  light,  its  branches 
loaded  with  strange,  wonderful  fruit.  It  was  a 
'moment  of  supreme  happiness.  I  danced  and 
capered  round  the  tree  in  an  ecstasy.  When  I 
learned  that  there  was  a  gift  for  each  child,  I  was 
delighted,  and  the  kind  people  who  had  prepared 
the  tree  permitted  me  to  hand  the  presents  to  the 
children.  In  the  pleasure  of  doing  this,  I  did  not 
stop  to  look  at  my  own  gifts ;  but  when  I  was  ready 
for  them,  my  impatience  for  the  real  Christmas  to 
begin  almost  got  beyond  control.  I  knew  the  gifts 

41 


42  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

I  already  had  were  not  those  of  which  friends  had 
thrown  out  such  tantalizing  hints,  and  my  teacher 
said  the  presents  I  was  to  have  would  be  even  nicer 
than  these.  I  was  persuaded,  however,  to  content 
myself  with  the  gifts  from  the  tree  and  leave  the 
others  until  morning. 

That  night,  after  I  had  hung  my  stocking,  I 
lay  awake  a  long  time,  pretending  to  be  asleep 
and  keeping  alert  to  see  what  Santa  Claus  would 
do  when  he  came.  At  last  I  fell  asleep  with  a 
new  doll  and  a  white  bear  in  my  arms.  Next  morn 
ing  it  was  I  who  waked  the  whole  family  with 
my  first  "  Merry  Christmas  !"  I  found  surprises, 
not  in  the  stocking  only,  but  on  the  table,  on  all  the 
chairs,  at  the  door,  on  the  very  window-sill ;  indeed, 
I  could  hardly  walk  without  stumbling  on  a  bit  of 
Christmas  wrapped  up  in  tissue  paper.  But  w^hen 
vA/my  teacher  presented  me  with  a  canary,  my  cup  of 
(Jr  d  happiness  overflowed.  •> ' 

Little  Tim  was  so  tame  that  he  would  hop  on 
my  finger  and  eat  candied  cherries  out  of  my  hand. 
Miss  Sullivan  taught  me  to  take  all  the  care  of  my 
new  pet.  Every  morning  after  breakfast  I  prepared 
his  bath,  made  his  cage  clean  and  sweet,  filled  his 
cups  with  fresh  seed  and  water  from  the  well-house, 
and  hung  a  spray  of  chickweed  in  his  swing. 

One  morning  I  left  the  cage  on  the  window-seat 
while  I  went  to  fetch  water  for  his  bath.  When 
I  returned  I  felt  a  big  cat  brush  past  me  as  I  opened 
the  door.  At  first  I  did  not  realize  what  had  hap 
pened;  but  when  I  put  my  hand  in  the  cage  and 
Tim's  pretty  wings  did  not  meet  my  touch  or  his 
small  pointed  claws  take  hold  of  my  finger,  I  knew 
that  I  should  never  see  my  sweet  little  singer  agaixx, 


CHAPTER  IX 


THE  next  important  event  in  my  life  was  my  visit 
to  Boston,  in  May,  1888.     As  if  it  were  yesterday  I 
remember  the  preparations,  the  departure  with  my 
teacher  and  my  mother,  the  journey,  and  finally  the 
arrival  in  Boston.     How  different  this  journey  was 
from  the  one  I  had  made  to  Baltimore  two  years 
before !     I  was  no  longer  a  restless,  excitable  little 
creature,  requiring  the  attention  of  everybody  on  the 
train  to  keep  me  amused.     I  sat  quietly  beside  Miss 
Sullivan,  taking  in  with  eager  interest  all  that  she 
I  told  me  about  what  she  saw  out  of  the  car  window : 
the  beautiful  Tennessee   River,   the  great  cotton- 
fields,  the  hills  and  woods,  and  the  crowds  of  laughing 
negroes  at  the  stations,  who  waved  to  the  people  on 
the  train  and  brought  delicious  candy  and  popcorn 
balls  through  the  car.     On  the  seat  opposite  me  sat 
my  big  rag  doll,   Nancy,  in  a  new  gingham  dress 
i;  and  a  beruffled  sunbonnet,  looking  at  me  out  of  two 
I  bead  eyes.     Sometimes,  when  I  was  not  absorbed 
I  in     Miss     Sullivan's    descriptions,     I     remembered 
s  Nancy's  existence  and  took  her  up  in  my  arms,  but 
\  I  generally  calmed  my  conscience  by  making  myself 
•:  believe  that  she  was  asleep. 

As  I  shall-  not  have  occasion  to  refer  to  Nancy 
I  again,  I  wish  to  tell  here  a  sad  experience  she  had 
I  soon  after  our  arrival  in  Boston.  She  was  covered 
1  with  dirt — the  remains  of  mud  pies  I  had  com- 
i  pelled  her  to  eat,  although  she  had  never  shown 

43 


44  THE   STORY  OF   MY   LIFE 

any  special  liking  for  them.  The  laundress  at  the 
Perkins  Institution  secretly  carried  her  off  to  give 
her  a  bath.  This  was  too  much  for  poor  Nancy. 
When  I  next  saw  her  she  was  a  formless  heap  of 
cotton,  which  I  should  not  have  recognized  at  all 
except  for  the  two  bead  eyes  which  looked  out  at  me 
reproachfully. 

When  the  train  at  last  pulled  into  the  station  at 
Boston  it  was  as  if  a  beautiful  fairy  tale  had  come 
true.  The  "once  upon  a  time"  was  now;  the  "far 
away  country"  was  here. 

We  had  scarcely  arrived  at  the  Perkins  Institution 
for  the  Blind  when  I  began  to  make  friends  with  the 
little  blind  children.  It  delighted  me  inexpressibly 
to  find  that  they  knew  the  manual  alphabet.  .What 
joy  to  talk  with  other  children  in  my  own  language ) 
Until  then  I  had  been  like  a  foreigner  speaking 
through  an  interpreter.  In  the  school  where  Laura 
Bridgman  was  taught  I  was  in  my  own  country.  It 
took  me  some  time  to  appreciate  the  fact  that  my 
new  friends  were  blind.  I  knew  I  could  not  see; 
but  it  did  not  seem  possible  that  all  the  eager,  loving 
children  who  gathered  round  me  and  joined  heartily 
in  my  frolics  were  also  blind.  I  remember  the  sur 
prise  and  the  pain  I  felt  as  I  noticed  that  they  placed 
their  hands  over  mine  when  I  talked  to  them  and 
that  they  read  books  with  their  fingers.  Although 
I  had  been  told  this  before,  and  although  I  under 
stood  my  own  deprivations,  yet  I  had  thought 
vaguely  that  since  they  could  hear,  they  must 
have  a  sort  of  "second  sight,"  and  I  was  not 
prepared  to  find  one  child  and  another  and  yet 
another  deprived  of  the  same  precious  gift. 
But  they  were  so  happy  and  contented  that  1  lost 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  45 

all  sense  of  pain  in  the  pleasure  of  their  com 
panionship. 

One  day  spent  with  the  blind  children  made  me 
feel  thoroughly  at  home  in  my  new  environment, 
and  I  looked  eagerly  from  one  pleasant  experience 
to  another  as  the  days  flew  swiftly  by.  I  could  not 
quite  convince  myself  that  there  was  much  world 
left,  for  I  regarded  Boston  as  the  beginning  and  the 
end  of  creation. 

While  we  were  in  Boston  we  visited  Bunker 
Hill,  and  there  I  had  my  first  lesson  in 
history.  The  story  of  the  brave  men  who  had 
fought  on  the  spot  where  we  stood  excited  me 
greatly.  I  climbed  the  monument,  counting 
the  steps,  and  wondering  as  I  went  higher  and 
yet  higher  if  the  soldiers  had  climbed  this  great 
stairway  and  shot  at  the  enemy  on  the  ground 
below. 

The  next  day  we  went  to  Plymouth  by  water. 
This  was  my  first  trip  on  the  ocean  and  my  first 
voyage  in  a  steamboat.  How  full  of  life  and 
motion  it  was !  But  the  rumble  of  the  machinery 
made  me  think  it  was  thundering,  and  I  began  to 
cry,  because  I  feared  if  it  rained  we  should  not  be 
able  to  have  our  picnic  out  of  doors.  I  was  more 
interested,  I  think,  in  the  great  rock  on  which  the 
Pilgrims  landed  than  in  anything  else  in  Plymouth. 
I  could  touch  it,  and  perhaps  that  made  the  coming 
of  the  Pilgrims  and  their  toils  and  great  deeds  seem 
more  real  to  me.  I  have  often  held  in  my  hand  a 
little  model  of  the  Plymouth  Rock  which  a  kind 
gentleman  gave  me  at  Pilgrim  Hall,  and  I  have 
fingered  its  curves,  the  split  in  the  centre  and  the 
embos  1  figures  "1620."  and  turned  over  in  my 


^  /tP 

y 


46  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

mind  all  that  I  knew  about  the  wonderful  story 
of  the  Pilgrims. 

How  my  childish  imagination  glowed  with  the 
splendour  of  their  enterprise  !  I  idealized  them  as 
the  bravest  and  most  generous  men  that  ever  sought 
a  home  in  a  strange  land.  I  thought  they  desired 
the  freedom  of  their  fellow  men  as  well  as  their  own. 
I  was  keenly  surprised  and  disappointed  years  later 
to  learn  of  their  acts  of  persecution  that  make  us 
tingle  with  shame,  even  while  we  glory  in  the  courage 
and  energy  that  gave  us  our  "Country  Beautiful." 

Among  the  many  friends  I  made  in  Boston  were 
Mr.  William  Endicott  and  his  daughter.  Their 
kindness  to  me  was  the  seed  from  which  many 
pleasant  memories  have  since  grown.  One  day  we 
visited  their  beautiful  home  at  Beverly  Farms. 
I  remember  with  delight  how  I  went  through  their 
rose-garden,  how  their  dogs,  big  Leo  and  little 
curly-haired  Fritz  with  long  ears,  came  to  meet  me, 
and  how  Nimrod,  the  swiftest  of  the  horses,  poked 
his  nose  into  my  hands  for  a  pat  and  a  lump  of 
sugar.  I  also  remember  the  beach,  where  for  the 
first  time  I  played  in  the  sand.  It  was  hard,  smooth 
sand,  very  different  from  the  loose,  sharp  sand, 
mingled  with  kelp  and  shells,  at  Brewster.  Mr. 
Endicott  told  me  about  the  great  ships  that  came 
sailing  by  from  Boston,  bound  for  Europe.  I  saw 
him  many  times  after  that,  and  he  was  always  a 
good  friend  to  me;  indeed,  I  was  thinking  of  him 
when  I  called  Boston  "the  City  of  Kind  Hearts." 


CHAPTER  X 

JUST  before  the  Perkins  Institution  closed  for  the 
summer,  it  was  arranged  that  my  teacher  and  I 
should  spend  our  vacation  at  Brewster,  on  Cape 
Cod,  with  our  dear  friend,  Mrs.  Hopkins.  I  was 
delighted,  for  my  mind  was  full  of  the  prospective 
joys  and  of  the  wonderful  stories  I  had  heard  about 
the  sea. 

My  most  vivid  recollection  of  that  summer  is  the 
ocean.  I  had  always  lived  far  inland  and  had  never 
had  so  much  as  a  whiff  of  salt  air ;  but  I  had  read  in  a 
big  book  called  "Our  World"  a  description  of  the 
ocean  which  filled  me  with  wonder  and  an  intense 
longing  to  touch  the  mighty  sea  and  feel  it  roar. 
So  my  little  heart  leaped  high  with  eager  excitement 
when  I  knew  that  my  wish  was  at  last  to  be  realized. 

No  sooner  had  I  been  helped  into  my  bathing-suit 
than  I  sprang  out  upon  the  warm  sand  and  without 
thought  of  fear  plunged  into  the  cool  water.     I  fell 
the    great   billows    rock    and    sink.     The   buoyant 
motion  of  the  water  filled  me  with  an  exquisite 
quivering  joy.     Suddenly  my  ecstasy  gave  place  to 
terror;  for  my  foot  struck  against  a  rock  and  the 
next  instant  there  was  a  rush  of  water  over  my  head. 
I  thrust  out  my  hands  to  grasp  some  support,  I 
clutched  at  the  water  and  at  the  seaweed  which 
the  waves   tossed  in  my  face.     But  all  my  frantic 
efforts   were   in   vain.     The   waves   seemed   to   be 
playing  a  game  with  me,  and  tossed  me  from  one  to 

4*7 


48  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

another  in  their  wild  frolic.  It  was  fearful !  The 
good,  firm  earth  had  slipped  from  my  feet,  and 
everything  seemed  shut  out  from  this  strange,, 
all-enveloping  element — life,  air,  warmth  and  love. 
At  last,  however,  the  sea,  as  if  weary  of  its  new  toy, 
threw  me  back  on  the  shore,  and  in  another  instant  I 
was  clasped  in  my  teacher's  arms.  Oh,  the  comfort 
of  the  long,  tender  embrace !  As  soon  as  I  had 
recovered  from  my  panic  sufficiently  to  say  anything, 
I  demanded:  "Who  put  salt  in  the  water?" 

After  I  had  recovered  from  my  first  experience 
in  the  water,  I  thought  it  great  fun  to  sit  on  a  big 
rock  in  my  bathing-suit  and  feel  wave  after  wave 
dash  against  the  rock,  sending  up  a  shower  of  spray 
which  quite  covered  me.  I  felt  the  pebbles  rattling 
as  the  waves  threw  their  ponderous  weight  against 
the  shore;  the  whole  beach  seemed  racked  by  their 
terrific  onset,  and  the  air  throbbed  with  their  pulsa 
tions.  The  breakers  would  swoop  back  to  gather 
themselves  for  a  mightier  leap,  and  I  clung  to  the 
rock,  tense,  fascinated,  as  I  felt  the  dash  and  roar  of 
the  rushing  sea ! 

I  could  never  stay  long  enough  on  the  shore.  The 
tang  of  the  untainted,  fresh  and  free  sea  air  was  like 
a  cool,  quieting  thought,  and  the  shells  and  pebbles 
and  the  seaweed  with  tiny  living  creatures  attached 
to  it  never  lost  their  fascination  for  me.  One  day 
Miss  Sullivan  attracted  my  attention  to  a  strange 
object  which  she  had  captured  basking  in  the  shallow 
water.  It  was  a  great  horseshoe  crab — the  first  one 
I  had  ever  seen.  I  felt  of  him  and  thought  it  very 
strange  that  he  should  carry  his  house  on  his  back. 
It  suddenly  occurred  to  me  that  he  might  make  a 
delightful  pet ;  so  I  seized  him  by  the  tail  with  both 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  49 

hands  and  carried  him  home.  This  feat  pleased  me 
highly,  as  his  body  was  very  heavy,  and  it  took  all 
my  strength  to  drag  him  half  a  mile.  I  would  not 
leave  Miss  Sullivan  in  peace  until  she  had  put  the 
crab  in  a  trough  near  the  well  where  I  was  confident 
he  would  be  secure.  But  next  morning  I  went  to 
the  trough,  and  lo,  he  had  disappeared !  Nobody 
knew  where  he  had  gone,  or  how  he  had  escaped. 
My  disappointment  was  bitter  at  the  time ;  but  little 
by  little  I  came  to  realize  that  it  was  not  kind  or 
wise  to  force  this  poor  dumb  creature  out  of  his 
element,  and  after  awhile  I  felt  happy  in  the  thought 
that  perhaps  he  had  returned  to  the  sea. 


CHAPTER   XI 

IN  the  autumn  I  returned  to  my  Southern  home 
with  a  heart  full  of  joyous  memories.  As  I  recall 
that  visit  North  I  am  filled  with  wonder  at  the 
richness  and  variety  of  the  experiences  that  cluster 
about  it.  It  seems  to  have  been  the  beginning  of 
everything.  The  treasures  of  a  new,  beautiful  world 
were  laid  at  my  feet,  and  I  took  in  pleasure  and  infor 
mation  at  every  turn.  I  lived  myself  into  all  things. 
I  was  never  still  a  moment;  my  life  was  as  full  of 
motion  as  those  little  insects  that  crowd  a  whole 
existence  into  one  brief  day.  I  met  many  people 
who  talked  with  me  by  spelling  into  my  hand,  and 
thought  in  joyous  sympathy  leaped  up  to  meet 
thought,  and  behold,  a  miracle  had  been  wrought  I 
The  barren  places  between  my  mind  and  the  minds 
of  others  blossomed  like  the  rose. 

I  spent  the  autumn  months  with  my  family  at  our 
summer  cottage,  on  a  mountain  about  fourteen  miles 
from  Tuscumbia.  It  was  called  Fern  Quarry, 
because  near  it  there  was  a  limestone  quarry,  long 
since  abandoned.  Three  frolicsome  little  streams 
ran  through  it  from  springs  in  the  rocks  above,  leap 
ing  here  and  tumbling  there  in  laughing  cascades 
wherever  the  rocks  tried  to  bar  their  way.  The 
opening  was  filled  with  ferns  which  completely 
covered  the  beds  of  limestone  and  in  places  hid  the 
streams.  The  rest  of  the  mountain  was  thickly 
wooded.  Here  were  great  oaks  and  splendid  ever- 

5° 

V 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  51 

greens  with  trunks  like  mossy  pillars,  from  the 
branches  of  which  hung  garlands  of  ivy  and  mistletoe, 
and  persimmon  trees,  the  odour  of  which  pervaded 
every  nook  and  corner  of  the  wood — an  illusive, 
fragrant  something  that  made  the  heart  glad.  In 
places  the  wild  muscadine  and  scuppernong  vines 
stretched  from  tree  to  tree,  making  arbours  which 
.were  always  full  of  butterflies  and  buzzing  insects. 
It  was  delightful  to  lose  ourselves  in  the  green 
hollows  of  that  tangled  wood  in  the  late  afternoon, 
and  to  smell  the  cool,  delicious  odours  that  came 
up  from  the  earth  at  the  close  of  day. 

Our  cottage  was  a  sort  of  rough  camp,  beautifully 
situated  on  the  top  of  the  mountain  among  oaks 
and  pines.  The  small  rooms  were  arranged  on 
each  side  of  a  long  open  hall.  Round  the  house 
was  a  wide  piazza,  where  the  mountain  winds  blew, 
sweet  with  all  wood-scents.  We  lived  on  the  piazza 
most  of  the  time — there  we  worked,  ate  and  played. 
At  the  back  door  there  was  a  great  butternut  tree, 
round  which  the  steps  had  been  built,  and  in  front 
the  trees  stood  so  close  that  I  could  touch  them  and 
feel  the  wind  shake  their  branches,  or  the  leaves  twirl 
downward  in  the  autumn  blast. 

Many  visitors  came  to  Fern  Quarry.  In  the 
evening,  by  the  campfire,  the  men  played  cards  and 
whiled  away  the  hours  in  talk  and  sport.  They  told 
stories  of  their  wonderful  feats  with  fowl,  fish  and 
quadruped — how  many  wild  ducks  and  turkeys  they 
had  shot,  what  "  savage  trout "  they  had  caught,  and 
how  they  had  bagged  the  craftiest  foxes,  outwitted 
the  most  clever  'possums  and  overtaken  the  fleetest 
deer,  until  I  thought  that  surely  the  lion,  the  tiger, 
the  Bear  and  the  rest  of  the  wild  tribe  would  not  be 


$3  THE   STORY  OF   MY   LIFE 

able  to  stand  before  these  wily  hunters .  ' '  To-morrow 
to  the  chase  1 ' '  was  their  good-night  shout  as  the 
circle  of  merry  friends  broke  up  for  the  night.  The 
men  slept  in  the  hall  outside  our  door,  and  I  could 
feel  the  deep  breathing  of  the  dogs  and  the  hunters 
as  they  lay  on  their  improvised  beds. 

At  dawn  I  was  awakened  by  the  smell  of  coffee, 
the  rattling  of  guns,  and  the  heavy  footsteps  of  the 
men  as  they  strode  about,  promising  themselves  the 
greatest  luck  of  the  season.  I  could  also  feel  the 
stamping  of  the  horses,  which  they  had  ridden  out 
from  town  and  hitched  under  the  trees,  where  they 
stood  all  night,  neighing  loudly,  impatient  to  be 
off.  At  last  the  men  mounted,  and,  as  they  say  in 
the  old  songs,  away  went  the  steeds  with  bridles 
ringing  and  whips  cracking  and  hounds  racing 
ahead,  and  away  went  the  champion  hunters  "with 
hark  and  whoop  and  wild  halloo  ! ' ' 

Later  in  the  morning  we  made  preparations  for  a 
barbecue.  A  fire  was  kindled  at  the  bottom  of  a 
deep  hole  in  the  ground,  big  sticks  were  laid  cross 
wise  at  the  top,  and  meat  was  hung  from  them  and 
turned  on  spits.  Around  the  fire  squatted  negroes, 
driving  away  the  flies  with  long  branches.  The 
savoury  odour  of  the  meat  made  me  hungry  long 
before  the  tables  were  set. 

When  the  bustle  and  excitement  of  preparation 
was  at  its  height,  the  hunting  party  made  its  appear 
ance,  struggling  in  by  twos  and  threes,  the  men  hot 
and  weary,  the  horses  covered  with  foam,  and  the 
jaded  hounds  panting  and  dejected — and  not  a 
single  kill !  Every  man  declared  that  he  had  seen 
at  least  one  deer,  and  that  the  animal  had  come  very 
close;  but  however  hotly  the  dogs  might  pursue  the 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  53 

game,  however  well  the  guns  might  be  aimed,  at  the 
snap  of  the  trigger  there  was  not  a  deer  in  sight. 
They  had  been  as  fortunate  as  the  little  boy  who 
said  he  came  very  near  seeing  a  rabbit — he  saw  his 
tracks.  The  party  soon  forgot  its  disappointment, 
however,  and  we  sat  down,  not  to  venison,  but  to  a 
tamer  feast  of  veal  and  roast  pig. 

One  summer  I  had  my  pony  at  Fern  Quarry.  I 
called  him  Black  Beauty,  as  I  had  just  read  the  book, 
and  he  resembled  his  namesake  in  every  way,  from 
his  glossy  black  coat  to  the  white  star  on  his  fore 
head.  I  spent  many  of  my  happiest  hours  on  his 
back.  Occasionally,  when  it  was  quite  safe,  my 
teacher  would  let  go  the  leading-rein,  and  the  pony 
sauntered  on  or  stopped  at  his  sweet  will  to  eat  grass 
or  nibble  the  leaves  of  the  trees  that  grew  beside  the 
narrow  trail. 

On  mornings  when  I  did  not  care  for  the  ride,  my 
teacher  and  I  would  start  after  breakfast  for  a  ramble 
in  the  woods,  and  allow  ourselves  to  get  lost  amid 
the  trees  and  vines,  with  no  road  to  follow  except 
the  paths  made  by  cows  and  horses.  Frequently 
we  came  upon  impassable  thickets  which  forced  us 
to  take  a  roundabout  way.  We  always  returned  to 
the  cottage  with  armfuls  of  laurel,  goldenrod,  ferns 
and  gorgeous  swamp-flowers  such  as  grow  only  in 
the  South. 

Sometimes  I  would  go  with  Mildred  and  my  little 
cousins  to  gather  persimmons.  I  did  not  eat  them ; 
but  I  loved  their  fragrance  and  enjoyed  hunting 
for  them  in  the  leaves  and  grass.  We  also  went 
nutting,  and  I  helped  them  open  the  chestnut  burrs 
and  break  the  shells  of  hickory-nuts  and  walnuts 
-  -the  big,  sweet  walnuts  ! 


54  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

At  the  foot  of  the  mountain  there  was  a  railroadT 
and  the  children  watched  the  trains  whiz  by. 
Sometimes  a  terrific  whistle  brought  us  to  the  steps, 
and  Mildred  told  me  in  great  excitement  that  a  cow 
or  a  horse  had  strayed  on  the  track.  About  a  mile 
distant  there  was  a  trestle  spanning  a  deep  gorge. 
It  was  very  difficult  to  walk  over,  the  ties  were  wide 
apart  and  so  narrow  that  one  felt  as  if  one  were 
walking  on  knives.  I  had  never  crossed  it  until 
one  day  Mildred,  Miss  Sullivan  and  I  were  lost  in 
the  woods,  and  wandered  for  hours  without  finding 
a  path. 

Suddenly  Mildred  pointed  with  her  little  hand  and 
exclaimed,  "There's  the  trestle!"  We  would  have 
taken  any  way  rather  than  this;  but  it  was  late  and 
growing  dark,  and  the  trestle  was  a  short  cut  home. 
I  had  to  feel  for  the  rails  with  my  toe;  but  I  was  not 
afraid,  and  got  on  very  well,  until  all  at  once  there 
came  a  faint  "puff,  puff"  from  the  distance. 

"I  see  the  train!"  cried  Mildred,  and  in  another 
minute  it  would  have  been  upon  us  had  we  not 
climbed  down  on  the  crossbraces  while  it  rushed  over 
our  heads.  I  felt  the  hot  breath  from  the  engine 
on  my  face,  and  the  smoke  and  ashes  almost  choked 
us.  As  the  train  rumbled  by,  the  trestle  shook  and 
swayed  until  I  thought  we  should  be  dashed  to  the 
chasm  below.  With  the  utmost  difficulty  we 
regained  the  track.  Long  after  dark  we  reached 
home  and  found  the  cottage  empty;  the  family  were 
all  out  hunting  for  us. 


CHAPTER  XII 

AFTER  my  first  visit  to  Boston,  I  spent  almost 
every  winter  in  the  North.  Once  I  went  on  a  visit 
I  to  a  New  England  village  with  its  frozen  lakes  and 
vast  snow  fields.  It  was  then  that  I  had  oppor 
tunities  such  as  had  never  been  mine  to  enter  into 
the  treasures  of  the  snow. 

I  recall  my  surprise  on  discovering  that  a  mys 
terious  hand  had  stripped  the  trees  and  bushes, 
leaving  only  here  and  there  a  wrinkled  leaf.  The 
birds  had  flown,  and  their  empty  nests  in  the  bare 
trees  were  filled  with  snow.  Winter  was  on  hill 
and  field.  The  earth  seemed  benumbed  by  his  icy 
touch,  and  the  very  spirits  of  the  trees  had  with 
drawn  to  their  roots,  and  there,  curled  up  in  the 
dark,  lay  fast  asleep.  All  life  seemed  to  have  ebbed 
away,  and  even  when  the  sun  shone  the  day  was 

Shrunk  and  cold, 

As  if  her  veins  were  sapless  and  old, 
And  she  rose  up  decrepitly 
For  a  last  dim  look  at  earth  and  sea. 

The  withered  grass  and  the  bushes  were  transformed 
into  a  forest  of  icicles. 

Then  came  a  day  when  the  chill  air  portended 
a  snowstorm.  We  rushed  out-of-doors  to  feel  the 
first  few  tiny  flakes  descending.  Hour  by  hour 
the  flakes  dropped  silently,  softly  from  their  airy 
height  to  the  earth,  and  the  country  became  more 
and  more  level.  A  snowy  night  closed  upon  the 

55 


56  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

world,  and  in  the  morning  one  could  scarcely  recog 
nize  a  feature  of  the  landscape.  All  the  roads  were 
hidden,  not  a  single  landmark  was  visible,  only  a 
waste  of  snow  with  trees  rising  out  of  it. 

In  the  evening  a  wind  fron  the  northeast  sprang 
up,  and  the  flakes  rushed  hither  and  thither  in 
furious  melee.  Around  the  great  fire  we  sat  and 
told  merry  tales,  and  frolicked,  and  quite  forgot  that 
we  were  in  the  midst  of  a  desolate  solitude,  shut  in 
from  all  communication  with  the  outside  world. 
But  during  the  night  the  fury  of  the  wind  increased 
to  such  a  degree  that  it  thrilled  us  with  a  vague 
terror.  The  rafters  creaked  and  strained,  and  the 
branches  of  the  trees  surrounding  the  house  rattled 
and  beat  against  the  windows,  as  the  winds  rioted  up 
and  down  the  country. 

On  the  third  day  after  the  beginning  of  the  storm 
the  snow  ceased.  The  sun  broke  through  the  clouds 
and  shone  upon  a  vast,  undulating  white  plain. 
High  mounds,  pyramids  heaped  in  fantastic  shapes, 
and  impenetrable  drifts  lay  scattered  in  every 
direction. 

Narrow  paths  were  shoveled  through  the  drifts. 
I  put  on  my  cloak  and  hood  and  went  out.  The 
air  stung  my  cheeks  like  fire.  Half  walking  in  the 
paths,  half  working  our  way  through  the  lesser 
drifts,  we  succeeded  in  reaching  a  pine  grove  just 
outside  a  broad  pasture.  The  trees  stood  motion 
less  and  white  like  figures  in  a  marble  frieze.  There 
was  no  odour  of  pine-needles.  The  rays  of  the  sun 
fell  upon  the  trees,  so  that  the  twigs  sparkled  like 
diamonds  and  dropped  in  showers  when  we  touched 
them.  So  dazzling  was  the  light,  it  penetrated  even 
the  darkness  that  veils  my  eyes. 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  57 

As  the  days  wore  on,  the  drifts  gradually  shrunk, 
but  before  they  were  wholly  gone  another  storm 
came,  so  that  I  scarcely  felt  the  earth  under  my 
feet  once  all  winter.  At  intervals  the  trees  lost  their 
icy  covering,  and  the  bulrushes  and  underbrush 
were  bare;  but  the  lake  lay  frozen  and  hard  beneath 
the  sun. 

Our  favourite  amusement  during  that  winter  was 
'  tobogganing.  In  places  the  shore  of  the  lake  rises 
abruptly  from  the  water's  edge.  Down  these  steep 
slopes  we  used  to  coast.  We  would  get  on  our 
toboggan,  a  boy  would  give  us  a  shove,  and  off  we 
went!  Plunging  through  drifts,  leaping  hollows, 
swooping  down  upon  the  lake,  we  would  shoot  across  ; 
its  gleaming  surface  to  the  opposite  bank.  What ' 
joy!  What  exhilarating  madness!  For  one  wild, 
glad  moment  we  snapped  the  chain  that  binds  us  to 
earth,  and  joining  hands  with  the  winds  we  felt 
ourselves  divine! 


CHAPTER  XIII 

IT  was  in  the  spring  of  1890  that  I  Jearnedjbo' 
^^spealc/E  The  impulse  to  utter  audible  sounds  had 
always  been  strong  within  me.  I  used  to  make 
noises,  keeping  one  hand  on  my  throat  while  the 
other  hand  felt  the  movements  of  my  lips.  I  was 
pleased  with  anything  that  made  a  noise  and  liked 
to  feel  the  cat  purr  and  the  dog  bark.  I  also  liked 
to  keep  my  hand  on  a  singer's  throat,  or  on  a  piano 
when  it  was  being  played.  Before  I  lost  my  sight 
and  hearing,  I  was  fast  learning  to  talk,  but  after 
my  illness  it  was  found  that  I  had  ceased  to  speak 
because  I  could  not  hear.  I  used  to  sit  in  my 
mother's  lap  all  day  long  and  keep  my  hands  on  her 
face  because  it  amused  me  to  feel  the  motions  of  her 
lips ;  and  I  moved  my  lips,  too,  although  I  had  for 
gotten  what  talking  was.  My  friends  say  that  I 
laughed  and  cried  naturally,  and  for  awhile  I  made 
many  sounds  and  word-elements,  not  because  they 
were  a  means  of  communication,  but  because  the 
need  of  exercising  my  vocal  organs  was  imperative. 
There  was,  however,  one  word  the  meaning  of 
which  I  still  remembered,  water.  I  pronounced 
it  "wa-wa."  Even  this  became  less  and  less 
intelligible  until  the  time  when  Miss  Sullivan 
began  to  teach  me.  I  stopped  using  it  only  after 
I  had  learned  to  spell  the  word  on  my  fingers. 
I  had  known  for  a  long  time  that  the  people  about 
*For  Miss  Sullivan's  account  see  page  386. 

~ 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  59 

me  used  a  method  of  communication  different  from 
mine ;  and  even  before  I  knew  that  a  deaf  child  could 
be  taught  to  speak,  I  was  conscious  of  dissatisfac 
tion  with  the  means  of  communication  I  already 
possessed.  One  who  is  entirely  dependent  upon  the 
manual  alphabet  has  always  a  sense  of  restraint,  of 
narrowness.  This  feeling  began  to  agitate  me  with; 
a  vexing,  forward-reaching  sense  of  a  lack  that 
should  be  filled.  My  thoughts  would  often  rise  and 
beat  up  like  birds  against  the  wind;  and  I  persisted 
in  using  my  lips  and  voice.  Friends  tried  to  dis 
courage  this  tendency,  fearing  lest  it  would  lead 
to  disappointment.  But  I  persisted,  and  an  acci 
dent  soon  occurred  which  resulted  in  the  breaking 
down  of  this  great  barrier^— -I_  heard__the  jstory  of 
Ragnhild  Kaata. 

~~Ih~T89~6  Mrs.  Lamson,  who  had  been  one  of 
Laura  Bridgman's  teachers,  and  who  had  just 
returned  from  a  visit  to  Norway  and  Sweden,  came 
to  see  me,  and  told  me  of  Ragnhild  Kaata,  a  deaf 
and  blind  girl  in  Norway  who  had  actually  been 
taught  to  speak.  Mrs.  Lamson  had  scarcely 
finished  telling  me  about  this  girl's  success  before 
I  was  on  fire  with  eagerness.  J  resolved  that  I,  too, 
would  learn  to  speak.  I  would"  not  rest  satisfied 
until  my  teacher  took  me,  for  advice  and  assistance, 
to  Miss  Sarah  Fuller,  principal  of  the  Horace  Mann 
Schooir  This  lovely ,'sweet-natured  lady  offered  to 
teach  me  herself,  and  we  began  the  twenty-sixth  of 
March,  1890. 

Miss  Fuller's  method  was  this:  she  passed  myj 
hand  lightly  over  her  face,  and  let  me  feel  the  posi-' 
tion  of  her  tongue  and  lips  when  she  made  a  sound. 
I  was  eager  to  imitate  every  motion  and  in  an  houf 


6o  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

had  learned  six  elements  of  speech:  M,  P,  A,  S,  T,  I. 
Miss  Fuller  gave  me  eleven  lessons  in  all.  I  shall 
never  forget  the  surprise  and  delight  I  felt  when  I 
uttered  my  first  connected  sentence,  "It  is  warm." 
True,  they  were  broken  and  stammering  syllables; 
j  but  they  were  human  speech.  My  soul,  conscious  of 
new  strength,  came  out  of  bondage,  and  was 
reaching  through  those  broken  symbols  of  speech 
to  all  knowledge  and  all  faith. 

v  ill    No  deaf  child  who  has  earnestly  tried  to  speak 

II  the  words  which  he  has  never  heard — to  come  out 

j|  of  the  prison  of  silence,  where  no  tone  of  love,  no 

|l  song  of  bird,  no  strain  of  music  ever  pierces  the 

|P  stillness — can  forget  the  thrill  of  surprise,  the  joy  of 

discovery  which  came  over  him  when  he  uttered 

his  first  word.     Only  such  a  one  can  appreciate  the 

eagerness  with  which  I  talked  to  my  toys,  to  stones, 

trees,  birds  and  dumb  animals,  or  the  delight  I  felt 

when  at  my  call  Mildred  ran  to  me  or  my  dogs 

obeyed  my  commands.     It  is  an  unspeakable  boon 

to  me  to  be  able  to  speak  in  winged  words  that  need 

no   interpretation.     As   I   talked,    happy   thoughts 

fluttered  up  out  of  my  words  that  might  perhaps 

have  struggled  in  vain  to  escape  my  fingers. 

But  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  I  could  really 
talk  in  this  short  time.  I  had  learned  only  the 
elements  of  speech.  Miss  Fuller  and  Miss  Sullivan 
could  understand  me,  but  most  people  would  not 
have  understood  one  word  in  a  hundred.  Nor  is  it 
!  true  that,  after  I  had  learned  these  elements,  I  did 
the  rest  of  the  work  myself.  But  for  Miss  Sullivan's 
genius,  untiring  perseverance  and  devotion,  I  could 
not  have  progressed  as  far  as  I  have  toward  natural 
speech.  In  the  first  place,  I  laboured  night  and 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  61 

day  before  I  could  be  understood  even  by  my  most 
intimate  friends ;  in  the  second  place,  I  needed  Miss 
Sullivan's  assistance  constantly  in  my  efforts  to 
articulate  each  sound  clearly  and  to  combine  all 
sounds  in  a  thousand  ways.  Even  now  she  calls 
my  attention  every  day  to  mispronounced  words. 

All  teachers  of  the  deaf  know  what  this  means,  and 
only  they  can  at  all  appreciate  the  peculiar  diffi 
culties  with  which  I  had  to  contend.  In  reading 
,  my  teacher's  lips  I  was  wholly  dependent  on  my 
j  fingers :  I  had  to  use  the  sense  of  touch  in  catching 
[  the  vibrations  of  the  throat,  the  movements  of  the 
mouth  and  the  expression  of  the  face;  and  often 
this  sense  was  at  fault.  In  such  cases  I  was  forced 
to  repeat  the  words  or  sentences,  sometimes  for 
hours,  until  I  felt  the  proper  ring  in  my  own 
voice.  My  work  was  practice,  practice,  practice. 
Discouragement  and  weariness  cast  me  down  fre- 
jquently" ;  but  the  next  moment  the  thought  that  I 
should  soon  be  at  home  and  show  my  loved  ones 
what  I  had  accomplished,  spurred  me  on,  and  I 
eagerly  looked  forward  to  their  pleasure  in  my 
achievement. 

"My  little  sister  will  understand  me  now/^  was  a 
thought    stronger   than   all   obstacles.     I    used   to 
repeat  ecstatically,  "I  am  not  dumb  now."     I  could 
not  be  despondent  while  I  anticipated  the  delight  of 
"  talking  to  my  mother  and  reading  her  responses  from 
her  lips.     It  astonished  me  to  find  how  much  easier 
!  it  is  to  talk  than  to  spell  with  the  fingers,  and  I  dis 
carded  the  manual  alphabet  as  a  medium  of  com- 
\  munication  on  my  part ;  but  Miss  Sullivan  and  a  few 
\  friends  still  use  it  in  speaking  to  me,  for  it  is  more 
convenient  and  more  rapid  than  lip-reading. 


62  THE   STORY  DP  MY  LIFE 

Just  here,  perhaps,  I  had  better  explain  our  use 
of  the  manual  alphabet,  which  seems  to  puzzle 
people  who  do  not  know  us.  One  who  reads  or  talks 
to  me  spells  with  his  hand,  using  the  single-hand 
manual  alphabet  generally  employed  by  the  deaf. 
I  place  my  hand  on  the  hand  of  the  speaker  so 
lightly  as  not  to  impede  its  movements.  The 
position  of  the  hand  is  as  easy  to  feel  as  it  is  to  see. 
I  do  not  feel  each  letter  any  more  than  you  see  each 
letter  separately  when  you  read.  Constant  practice 
makes  the  fingers  very  flexible,  and  some  of  my 
friends  spell  rapidly — about  as  fast  as  an  expert 
writes  on  a  typewriter.  The  mere  spelling  is,  of 
course,  no  more  a  conscious  act  than  it  is  in  writing. 

When  I  had  made  speech  my  own,  I  could  not  wait 
to  go  home.  At  last  the  happiest  of  happy  moments 
arrived.  I  had  made  my  homeward  journey,  talking 
constantly  to  Miss  Sullivan,  not  for  the  sake  of  talk 
ing,  but  determined  to  improve  to  the  last  minute. 
Almost  before  I  knew  it,  the  train  stopped  at  the 
Tuscumbia  station,  and  there  on  the  platform  stood 
the  whole  family.  My  eyes  fill  with  tears  now  as  I 
think  how  my  mother  pressed  me  close  to  .her, 
speechless  and  trembling  with  delight,  taking  in 
every  syllable  that  I  spoke,  while  little  Mildred 
seized  my  free  hand  and  kissed  it  and  danced,  and 
my  father  expressed  his  pride  and  affection  in  a  big 
y  silence.  It  was  as  if  Isaiah's  prophecy  had  been 
p. ^/bj  fulfilled  in  me,  "The  mountains  and  the  hills  shaft 
JF  |  break  forth  before  you  into  singing,  and  all  the 
I  trees  of  the  field  shall  .clap  their  hands !" 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  winter  of  1892  was  darkened  by  the  one  cloud 
in  my  childhood's  bright  sky.  Joy  deserted  my 
heart,  and  for  a  long,  long  time  I  lived  in  doubt, 
anxiety  and  fear.  Books  lost  their  charm  for  me, 
and  even  now  the  thought  of  those' dreadful  days 
chills  my  heart.  A  little  story  called  "The  Frost 
King,"  which  I  wrote  and  sent  to  Mr.  Anagnos,  of 
the  Perkins  Institution  for  the  Blind,  was  at  the 
root  of  the  trouble.  In  order  to  make  the  matter 
clear,  I  must  set  forth  the  facts  connected  with  this 
episode,  which  justice  to  my  teacher  and  to  myself 
compels  me  to  relate.* 

I  wrote  the  story  when  I  was  at  home,  the  autumn 
after  I  had  learned  to  speak.  We  had  stayed  up  at 
Fern  Quarry  later  than  usual.  While  we  were  there, 
Miss  Sullivan  had  described  to  me  the  beauties  of  the 
late  foliage,  and  it  seems  that  her  descriptions  revived 
the  memory  of  a  story,  which  must  have  been  read  to 
-me,  and  which  I  must  have  unconsciously  retained. 
I  thought  then  that  I  was  "making  up  a  story,"  as 
children  say,  and  I  eagerly  sat  down  to  write  it 
before  the  ideas  should  slip  from  me.  My  thoughts 
flowed  easily ;  I  felt  a  sense  of  joy  in  the  composition. 
Words  and  images  came  tripping  to  my  finger  ends, 
and  as  I  thought  out  sentence  after  sentence,  I 
wrote  them  on  pay  braille  slate.  Now,  if  words 
and  images  com*  to  me  without  effort,  it  is  a  pretty 

*For  the  documents  in  this  matter  see  page  396. 


64  THE   STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

sure  sign  that  they  are  not  the  offspring  of  my  own 
mind,  but  stray  waifs  that  I  regretfully  dismiss. 
At  that  time  I  eagerly  absorbed  everything  I  read 
without  a  thought  of  authorship,  and  even  now  I 
cannot  be  quite  sure  of  the  boundary  line  between 
my  ideas  and  those  I  find  in  books.  I  suppose  that 
is  because  so  many  of  my  impressions  come  to  ma 
through  the  medium  of  others'  eyes  and  ears. 

When  the  story  was  finished,  I  read  it  to  my 
teacher,  and  I  recall  now  vividly  the  pleasure  I  felt 
in  the  more  beautiful  passages,  and  my  annoyance 
at  being  interrupted  to  have  the  pronunciation  of 
a  word  corrected.  At  dinner  it  was  read  to  the 
assembled  family,  who  were  surprised  that  I  could 
write  so  well.  Some  one  asked  me  if  I  had  read  it 
\n  a  book. 

This  question  surprised  me  very  much;  for  I  had 
not  the  faintest  recollection  of  having  had  it  read 
to  me.  I  spoke  up  and  said,  "  Oh,  no,  it  is  my  story, 
and  I  have  written  it  for  Mr.  Anagnos." 

Accordingly  I  copied  the  story  and  sent  it  to  him 
for  his  birthday.  It  was  suggested  that  I  should 
change  the  title  from  " Autumn  Leaves"  to  "The 
Frost  King,"  which  I  did.  I  carried  the  little  story 
to  the  post-office  myself,  feeling  as  if  I  were  walking 
on  air.  I  little  dreamed  how  cruelly  I  should  pay 
for  that  birthday  gift. 

Mr.  Anagnos  was  delighted  with  "The  Frost 
King,"  and  published  it  in  one  of  the  Perkins 
Institution  reports.  This  was  the  pinnacle  of  my 
happiness,  from  which  I  was  in  a  little  while  dashed 
to  earth.  I  had  been  in  Boston  only  a  short  time 
when  it  was  discovered  that  a  story  similar  to  "The 
Frost  King,"  called  "The  Frost  Fairies  "  by  Miss 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  65 

Margaret  T.  Canby,  had  appeared  before  I  was  born 
in  a  book  called ' '  Birdie  and  His  Friends. ' '  The  two 
stories  were  so  much  alike  in  thought  and  language 
that  it  was  evident  Miss  Canby's  story  had  been 
read  to  me,  and  that  mine  was — a  plagiarism.  It 
was  difficult  to  make  me  understand  this ;  but  when 
I  did  understand  I  was  astonished  and  grieved.  No 
child  ever  drank  deeper  of  the  cup  of  bitterness 
than  I  did.  I  had  disgraced  myself ;  I  had  brought 
suspicion  upon  those  I  loved  best.  And  yet  how 
could  it  possibly  have  happened?  I  racked  my 
brain  until  I  was  weary  to  recall  anything  about  the 
frost  that  I  had  read  before  I  wrote  "The  Frost 
King";  but  I  could  remember  nothing,  except  the 
common  reference  to  Jack  Frost,  and  a  poem  for 
children,  "The  Freaks  of  the  Frost,"  and  I  knew  I 
had  not  used  that  in  my  composition. 

At  first  Mr.  Anagnos,  though  deeply  troubled, 
seemed  to  believe  me.  He  was  unusually  tender 
and  kind  to  me,  and  for  a  brief  space  the  shadow 
lifted.  To  please  him  I  tried  not  to  be  unhappy, 
and  to  make  myself  as  pretty  as  possible  for  the 
celebration  of  Washington's  birthday,  which  took 
place  very  soon  after  I  received  the  sad  news. 

I  was  to  be  Ceres  in  a  kind  of  masque  giveti 
by  the  blind  girls.  How  well  I  remernber  the  grace^ 
ful  draperies  that  enfolded  me,  the  bright  autumn 
leaves  that  wreathed  my  head,  and  the  fruit  and 
grain  at  my  feet  and  in  my  hands,  and  beneath  all 
the  gaiety  of  the  masque  the  oppressive  sense  of 
coming  ill  that  made  my  heart  heavy. 

The  night  before  the  celebration,  one  of  the 
teachers  of  the  Institution  had  asked  me  a  ques 
tion  connected  with  "The  Frost  King,"  and  I  was 


66  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

telling  her  that  Miss  Sullivan  had  talked  to  me 
about  Jack  Frost  and  his  wonderful  works.  Some 
thing  I  said  made  her  think  she  detected  in  my 
words  a  confession  that  I  did  remember  Miss 
Canby's  story  of  *  *  The  Frost  Fairies/'  and  she  laid 
her  conclusions  before  Mr.  Anagnos,  although  I  had 
told  her  most  emphatically  that  she  was  mistaken. 

Mr.  Anagnos,  who  loved  me  tenderly,  thinking  that 
he  had  been  deceived,  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  the  plead 
ings  of  love  and  innocence.  He  believed,  or  at 
least  suspected,  that  Miss  Sullivan  and  I  had  delib 
erately  stolen  the  bright  thoughts  of  another  and 
imposed  them  on  him  to  win  his  admiration.  I  was 
brought  before  a  court  of  investigation  composed 
of  the  teachers  and  officers  of  the  Institution,  and 
Miss  Sullivan  was  asked  to  leave  me.  Then  I  was 
questioned  and  cross-questioned  with  what  seemed 
to  me  a  determination  on  the  part  of  my  judges  to 
force  me  to  acknowledge  that  I  remembered  having 
had  *' The  Frost  Fairies"  read  to  me.  I  felt  in  every 
question  the  doubt  and  suspicion  that  was  in  their 
minds,  and  I  felt,  too,  that  a  loved  friend  was  looking 
at  me  reproachfully,  although  I  could  not  have  put 
all  this  into  words.  The  blood  pressed  about  my 
thumping  heart,  and  I  could  scarcely  speak,  except 
in  monosyllables.  Even  the  consciousness  that  it 
was  only  a  dreadful  mistake  did  not  lessen  my  suffer 
ing,  and  when  at  last  I  was  allowed  to  leave  the 
room,  I  was  dazed  and  did  not  notice  my  teacher's 
caresses,  or  the  tender  words  of  my  friends,  who  said 
I  was  a  brave  little  girl  and  they  were  proud  of  me. 

As  I  lay  in  my  bed  that  night,  I  wept  as  I  hope 
few  children  have  wept.  I  felt  so  cold,  I  imagined 
I  should  die  before  morning,  and  the  thought  com- 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  67 

forted  me.  I  think  if  this  sorrow  had  come  to  me 
when  I  was  older,  it  would  have  broken  my  spirit 
Deyond  repairing.  But  the  angel  of  forgetfulness 
has  gathered  up  and  carried  away  much  of 
the  misery  and  all  the  bitterness  of  those  sad 
days.  I 

|  Miss  Sullivan  had  never  heard  of  "The  Frost 
Fairies"  or  of  the  book  in  which  it  was  published. 
With  the  assistance  of  Dr.  Alexander  Graham 
Bell,  she  investigated  the  matter  carefully,  and  at 
last  it  came  out  that  Mrs.  Sophia  C.  Hopkins  had  a 
copy  of  Miss  Canby's  " Birdie  and  His  Friends"  in 
1888,  the  year  that  we  spent  the  summer  with  her 
at  Brewster.  Mrs.  Hopkins  was  unable  to  find  her 
copy;  but  she  has  told  me  that  at  that  time,  while 
Miss  Sullivan  was  away  on  a  vacation,  she  tried  to 
amuse  me  by  reading  from  various  books,  and 
although  she  could  not  remember  reading  ' '  The 
Frost  Fairies"  any  more  than  I,  yet  she  felt  sure 
that  " Birdie  and  His  Friends"  was  one  of  them. 
She  explained  the  disappearance  of  the  book  by  the 
fact  that  she  had  a  short  time  before  sold  her  house 
and  disposed  of  many  juvenile  books,  such  as  old 
school-oooks  and  fairy  tales,  and  that  "Birdie  and 
His  Friends"  was  probably  among  them. 

The  stories  had  little  or  no  meaning  for  me  then ; 
but  the  mere  spelling  of  the  strange  words  was  suffi 
cient  to  amuse  a  little  child  who  could  do  almost 
nothing  to  amuse  herself;  and  although  I  do  not 
recall  a  single  circumstance  connected  with  the  read 
ing  of  the  stories,  yet  I  cannot  help  thinking  that  I 
made  a  great  effort  to  remember  the  words,  with  the 
intention  of  having  my  teacher  explain  them  when 
she  returned.  One  thing  is  certain,  the  language 


68  THE   STORY  OF   MY  LIFE 

was  ineffaceably  stamped  upon  my  brain,  though  for 
a  long  time  no  one  knew  it,  least  of  all  myself. 

When  Miss  Sullivan  came  back,  I  did  not  speak 
to  her  about  "The  Frost  Fairies,"  probably  because 
she  began  at  once  to  read  "  Little  Lord  Fauntleroy," 
which  filled  my  mind  to  the  exclusion  of  everything 
else.  But  the  fact  remains  that  Miss  Canby's  story j 
was  read  to  me  once,  and  that  long  after  I  had 
forgotten  it,  it  came  back  to  me  so  naturally  that  I 
never  suspected  that  it  was  the  child  of  another 
mind. 

In  my  trouble  I  received  many  messages  of  love 
and  sympathy.  All  the  friends  I  loved  best,  except 
one,  have  remained  my  own  to  the  present  time. 
Miss  Canby  herself  wrote  kindly,  "Some  day  you 
will  write  a  great  story  out  of  your  own  head,  that 
will  be  a  comfort  and  help  to  many."  But  this  kind 
prophecy  has  never  been  fulfilled.  I  have  never 
played  with  words  again  for  the  mere  pleasure  of 
the  game.  Indeed,  1  have  ever  since  been  tortured 
by  the  fear  that  wnat  i  wnte  is  not  my  own.  For  a 
long  time,  when  I  wrote  a  letter,  even  to  my  mother, 
I  was  seized  with  a  sudden  feeling  of  terror,  and  I 
would  spell  the  sentences  over  and  over,  to  make 
sure  that  I  had  not  read  them  in  a  book.  Had  it 
not  been  for  the  persistent  encouragement  of  Miss 
Sullivan,  I  think  I  should  have  given  up  trying  to 
write  altogether. 

I  have  read  "The  Frost  Fairies"  since,  also  the 
letters  I  wrote  in  which  I  used  other  ideas  of  Miss 
Canby's  I  find  in  one  of  them,  a  letter  to  Mr. 
Anagnos,  dated  September  29,  1891,  words  and  senti 
ments  exactly  like  those  of  the  book.  At  the  time 
I  was  writing  "The  Frost  King,"  and  this  letter^ 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  69 

like  many  others,  contains  phrases  which  show  that 
my  mind  was  saturated  with  the  story.  I  represent 
my  teacher  as  saying  to  me  of  the  golden  autumn 
leaves,  "  Yes,  they  are  beautiful  enough  to  comfort 
us  for  the  flight  of  summer" — an  idea  direct  from 
Miss  Canby's  story. 

This  habit  of  assimilating  what  pleased  me  and 
giving  it  out  again  as  my  own  appears  in  much  of 
my  early  correspondence  and  my  first  attempts  at 
writing.  In  a  composition  which  I  wrote  about 
the  old  cities  of  Greece  and  Italy,  I  borrowed  my 
glowing  descriptions,  with  variations,  from  sources 
I  have  forgotten.  I  knew  Mr.  Anagnos's  great  love 
of  antiquity  and  his  enthusiastic  appreciation  of  all 
beautiful  sentiments  about  Italy  and  Greece.  I 
therefore  gathered  from  all  the  books  I  read  every 
bit  of  poetry  or  of  history  that  I  thought  would  give 
him  pleasure.  Mr.  Anagnos,  in  speaking  of  my 
composition  on  the  cities,  has  said,  "  These  ideas  are 
poetic  in  their  essence."  But  I  do  not  understand 
how  he  ever  thought  a  blind  and  deaf  child  of  eleven 
could  have  invented  them.  Yet  I  cannot  think  that 
because  I  did  not  originate  the  ideas,  my  little  com 
position  is  therefore  quite  devoid  of  interest.  It 
shows  me  that  I  could  express  my  appreciation  of 
beautiful  and  poetic  ideas  in  clear  and  animated 
language. 

Those  early  compositions  were  mental  gymnastics. 
I  was  learning,  as  all  young  and  inexperienced 
persons  learn,  by  assimilation  and  imitation,  to  put 
ideas  into  words.  Everything  I  found  in  books  that 
pleased  me  I  retained  in  my  memory,  consciously 
or  unconsciously,  and  adapted  it.  The  young 
writer,  as  Stevenson  has  said,  instinctively  tries  to 


yo  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

copy  whatever  seems  most  admirable,  and  he  shifts 
his  admiration  with  astonishing  versatility.  It  is 
only  after  years  of  this  sort  of  practice  that  even 
great  men  have  learned  to  marshal  the  legion  of 
words  which  come  thronging  through  every  byway 
of  the  mind. 

I  am  afraid  I  have  not  yet  completed  this  process. 
It  is  certain  that  I  cannot  always  distinguish  my 
own  thoughts  from  those  I  read,  because  what  I  read 
become  the  very  substance  and  texture  of  my  mind. 
Consequently,  in  nearly  all  that  I  write,  I  produce 
something  which  very  much  resembles  the  crazy 
patchwork  I  used  to  make  when  I  first  learned  to 
Vsew.  This  patchwork  was  made  of  all  sorts  of  odds 
and  ends — pretty  bits  of  silk  and  velvet;  but  the 
coarse  pieces  that  were  not  pleasant  to  touch  always 
predominated.  Likewise  my  compositions  are  made 
up  of  crude  notions  of  my  own,  inlaid  with  the 
brighter  thoughts  and  riper  opinions  of  the  authors 
I  have  read.  It  seems  to  me  that  the  great  difficulty 
of  writing  is  to  make  the  language  of  the  educated 
mind  express  our  confused  ideas,  half  feelings,  half 
thoughts,  when  we  are  little  more  than  bundles  of 
,  instinctive  tendencies.  Trying  to  write  is  very 
much  like  trying  to  put  a  Chinese  puzzle  together., 
We  have  a  pattern  in  mind  which  we  wish  to  work 
,  out  in  words ;  but  the  words  will  not  fit  the  spaces, 
ior,  if  they  do,  they  will  not  match  the  design.  But 
we  keep  on  trying  because  we  know  that  others 
have  succeeded,  and  we  are  not  willing  to  acknowl 
edge  defeat. 

4 'There  is  no  way  to  become  original,  except  to 
be  born  so,"  says  Stevenson,  and  although  I  may 
not  be  original^  I  hope  sometime  to  outgrow  my 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  7< 

artificial,  periwigged  compositions.  Then,  perhaps, 
my  own  thoughts  and  experiences  will  come  to 
the  surface.  Meanwhile  I  trust  and  hope  and 
persevere,  and  try  not  to  let  the  bitter  memory 
of  "The  Frost  King"  trammel  my  efforts. 

So  this  sad  experience  may  have  done  me  good 
and  set  me  thinking  on  some  of  the  problems  of 
composition.  My  only  regret  is  that  it  resulted  in 
the  loss  of  one  of  my  dearest  friends,  Mr.  Anagnos. 

Since  the  publication  of  "The  Story  of  My  Life" 
in  the  Ladies'  Home  Journal,  Mr.  Anagnos  has  made 
a  statement,  in  a  letter  to  Mr.  Macy,  that  at  the 
time  of  the  "Frost  King"  matter,  he  believed  I 
was  innocent.  He  says,  the  court  of  investigation 
before  which  I  was  brought  consisted  of  eight  people: 
four  blind,  four  seeing  persons.  Four  of  them, 
he  says,  thought  I  knew  that  Miss  Canby's  story 
had  been  read  to  me,  and  the  others  did  not  hold 
this  view.  Mr.  Anagnos  states  that  he  cast  his  vote 
with  those  who  were  favourable  to  me. 

But.  however  the  case  may  have  been,  with 
whichever  side  he  may  have  cast  his  vote,  when  I 
went  into  the  room  where  Mr.  Anagnos  had  so  often 
held  me  on  his  knee  and,  forgetting  his  many  cares, 
had  shared  in  my  frolics,  and  found  there  persons 
.who  seemed  to  doubt  me,  I  felt  that  there  was  some 
thing  hostile  and  menacing  in  the  very  atmosphere, 
and  subsequent  events  have  borne  out  this  impres 
sion.  For  two  years  he  seems  to  have  held  the  belief 
that  Miss  Sullivan  and  I  were  innocent.  Then  he 
evidently  retracted  his  favourable  judgment,  why 
I  do  not  know.  Nor  did  I  know  the  deta.ils  of  the 
investigation.  I  never  knew  even  the  names  of  the 
members  of  the  "court"  who  did  not  speak  to  rr,e. 


72  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

I  was  too  excited  to  notice  anything,  too  frightened 
to  ask  questions.  Indeed,  I  could  scarcely  think 
what  I  was  saying,  or  what  was  being  said  to  me. 

I  have  given  this  account  of  the  "Frost  King" 
affair  because  it  was  important  in  my  life  and  edu 
cation;  and,  in  order  that  there  might  be  no  mis 
understanding,  I  have  set  forth  all  the  facts  as 
they  appear  to  me,  without  a  thought  of  defending 
myself  or  of  laying  blame  on  any  one. 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  summer  and  winter  following  the  "Frost 
;*Gng:'  incident  I  spent  with  my  family  in  Alabama. 
fl  recall  with  delight  that  home-going.  Everything 
had  budded  and  blossomed.  I  was  happy.  "The 
Frost  King"  was  forgotten. 

When  the  ground  was  strewn  with  the  crimson 
and  golden  leaves  of  autumn,  and  the  musk-scented 
grapes  that  covered  the  arbour  at  the  end  of  the 
garden  were  turning  golden  brown  in  the  sunshine, 
I  began  to  write  a  sketch  of  my  life  —  a  year  after  I 
had  written  "The  Frost  King." 

I  was  still  excessively  scrupulous  about  everything 
I  wrote.  The  thought  that  what  I  wrote  might 
not  be  absolutely  my  own  tormented  me.  No 
one  knew  of  these  fears  except  my  teacher.  A 
strange  sensitiveness  prevented  me  from  referring 
to  che  "  Frost  King  "  ;  and  often  when  an  idea  flashed 
out  in  the  course  of  conversation  I  would  spell  softly 
^to  her,  "  I  am  not  sure  it  is  mine."  At  other  times, 
in  the  midst  of  a  paragraph  I  was  writing,  I  said  to 
myself,  "Suppose  it  should  be  found  that  all  this 
was  written  by  some  one  long  ago ! "  An  impish  fear 
clutched  my  hand,  so  that  I  could  not  write  any  more 
that  day.  And  even  now  I  sometimes  feel  the  same 
uneasiness  and  disquietude.  Miss  Sullivan  consoled 
and  helped  me  in  every  way  she  could  think  of ;  but 
the  terrible  experience  I  had  passed  through  left  a 
lasting  impression  on  my  mind,  the  significance  of 

73 


74  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

which  I  am  only  just  beginning  to  understand.  It 
was  with  the  hope  of  restoring  my  self-confidence 
that  she  persuaded  me  to  write  for  the  Youth's 
Companion  a  brief  account  of  my  life.  I  was  then 
twelve  years  old.  As  I  look  back  on  my  struggle 
to  write  that  little  story,  it  seems  to  me  that  I  must 
have  had  a  prophetic  vision  of  the  good  that  would 
come  of  the  undertaking,  or  I  should  surely  have 
failed. 

I  wrote  timidly,  fearfully,  but  resolutely,  urged 
on  by  my  teacher,  who  knew  that  if  I  persevered,  I 
should  find  my  mental  foothold  again  and  get  a  grip 
on  my  faculties.  Up  to  the  time  of  the  "  Frost 
King"  episode,  I  had  lived  the  unconscious  life 
of  a  little  child;  now  my  thoughts  were  turned 
inward,  and  I  beheld  things  invisible.  Gradually 
I  emerged  from  the  penumbra  of  that  experience 
with  a  mind  made  clearer  by  trial  and  with  a 
truer  knowledge  of  life. 

The  chief  events  of  the  year  1893  were  my  trip 
to  Washington  during  the  inauguration  of  President 
Cleveland,  and  visits  to  Niagara  and  the  World's 
Fair.  Under  such  circumstances  my  studies  were 
constantly  interrupted  and  often  put  aside  for  many 
weeks,  so  that  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  give  a  con 
nected  account  of  them. 

We  went  to  Niagara  in  March,  1893.  It  is  difficult 
to  describe  my  emotions  when  I  stood  on  the  point 
which  overhangs  the  American  Falls  and  felt  the  air 
vibrate  and  the  earth  tremble. 

It  seems  strange  to  many  people  that  I  should  be 
impressed  by  the  wonders  and  beauties  of  Niagara. 
They  are  always  asking:  "What  does  this  beauty 
or  that  music  mean  to  you?  You  cannot  see  the 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  75 

waves  rolling  up  the  beach  or  hear  their  roar. 
What  do  they  mean  to  you?"     In  the  most  evident 
sense  they  mean  everything.     I  cannot  fathom  orjj 
define  their  meaning  any  more  than  I  can  fathom) 
or  define  love  or  religion  or  goodness. 

During  the  summer  of  1893,  Miss  Sullivan  and 
I  visited  the  World's  Fair  with  Dr.  Alexander 
Graham  Bell.  I  recall  with  unmixed  delight  those 
days  when  a  thousand  childish  fancies  became 
beautiful  realities.  Every  day  in  imagination  I 
made  a  trip  round  the  world,  and  I  saw  many 
wonders  from  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth  — 
marvels  of  invention,  treasures  of  industry  and  skill 
and  all  the  activities  of  human  life  actually  passed 
under  my  finger  tips. 

1 1  liked  to  visit  the  Midway  Plaisance.  It  seemed 
like  the  "Arabian  Nights,"  it  was  crammed  so  full 
of  novelty  and  interest.  Here  was  the  India  of  my 
books  in  the  curious  bazaar  with  its  Shivas  and 
elephant-gods ;  there  was  the  land  of  the  Pyramids 
concentrated  in  a  model  Cairo  with  its  mosques 
and  its  long  processions  of  camels ;  yonder  were  the 
lagoons  of  Venice,  where  we  sailed  every  evening 
when  the  city  and  the  fountains  were  illuminated. 
I  also  went  on  board  a  Viking  ship  which  lay  a  short 
distance  from  the  little  craft.  I  had  been  on  a 
man-of-war  before,  in  Boston,  and  it  interested  me 
to  see,  on  this  Viking  ship,  how  the  seaman  was  once 
all  in  all  —  how  he  sailed  and  took  storm  and  calm 
alike  with  undaunted  heart,  and  gave  chase  to 
whosoever  reechoed  his  cry,  "We  are  of  the  sea!" 
and  fought  with  brains  and  sinews,  self-reliant, 
self-sufficient,  instead  of  being  thrust  into  the  back 
ground  by  unintelligent  machinery,  as  Jack  is 


76  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

to-day.  So  it  always  is  —  "  man  only  is  interesting 
to  man." 

At  a  little  distance  from  this  ship  there  was  a 
model  of  the  Santa  Maria,  which  I  also  examined. 
The  captain  showed  me  Columbus 's  cabin  and  the 
desk  with  an  hour-glass  on  it.  This  small  instru 
ment  impressed  me  most  because  it  made  me  think 
how  weary  the  heroic  navigator  must  have  felt  as 
he  saw  the  sand  dropping  grain  by  grain  while 
desperate  men  were  plotting  against  his  life. 

Mr.  Higinbotham,  President  of  the  World's 
Fair,  kindly  gave  me  permission  to  touch  the 
exhibits,  and  with  an  eagerness  as  insatiable  as 
that  with  which  Pizarro  seized  the  treasures  of 
Peru,  I  took  in  the  glories  of  the  Fair  with  my 
fingers.  It  was  a  sort  of  tangible  kaleidoscope, 
this  white  city  of  the  West.  Everything  fascinated 
me,  especially  the  French  bronzes.  They  were  so 
lifelike,  I  thought  they  were  angel  visions  which  the 
artist  had  caught  and  bound  in  earthly  forms. 

At  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope  exhibit,  I  learned  mucl. 
about  the  processes  of  mining  diamonds.  Whenever 
it  was  possible,  I  touched  the  machinery  while  it 
was  in  motion,  so  as  to  get  a  clearer  idea  how  the 
stones  were  weighed,  cut,  and  polished.  I  searched 
'in  the  washings  for  a  diamond  and  found  it  myself 
—  the  only  true  diamond,  they  said,  that  was  ever 
found  in  the  United  States. 

Dr.  Bell  went  everywhere  with  us  and  in  his 
own  delightful  way  described  to  me  the  objects  of 
greatest  interest.  In  the  electrical  building  we 
examined  the  telephones,  autophones,  phonographs, 
and  other  inventions,  and  he  made  me  understand 
bow  it  is  possible  to  send  a  message  on  wires  that 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  77 

mock  space  and  outrun  time,  and,  like  Prometheus, 
to  draw  fire  from  the  sky.  We  also  visited  the 
anthropological  department,  and  I  was  much  interested 
in  the  relics  of  ancient  Mexico,  in  the  rude  stone  imple 
ments  that  are  so  often  the  only  record  of  an  age — the 
simple  monuments  of  nature's  unlettered  children  (so  I 
thought  as  I  fingered  them)  that  seem  bound  to  last  while 
the  memorials  of  kings  and  sages  crumble  in  dust  away 
• — and  in  the  Egyptian  mummies,  which  I  shrank  from 
touching.  From  these  relics  I  learned  more  about 
the  progress  of  man  than  I  have  heard  or  read  since. 

All  these  experiences  added  a  great  many  new  terms 
to  my  vocabulary,  and  in  the  three  weeks  I  spent  at  the 
Fair  I  took  a  long  leap  from  the  little  child's  interest  in 
fairy  tales  and  toys  to  the  appreciation  of  the  real  and  the 
earnest  in  the  workaday  world. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

BEFORE  October,  1893,  I  had  studied  various  sub- 
jects  by  myself  in  a  more  or  less  desultory  manner. 
I  read  the  histories  of  Greece,  Rome  and  the  United 
States.  I  had  a  French  grammar  in  raised  print, 
and  as  I  already  knew  some  French,  I  often  amused 
myself  by  composing  in  my  head  short  exercises, 
using  the  new  words  as  I  came  across  them,  and 
ignoring  rules  and  other  technicalities  as  much  as 
possible.  I  even  tried,  without  aid,  to  master  the 
French  pronunciation,  as  I  found  all  the  letters  and 
sounds  described  in  the  book.  Of  course  this  was 
tasking  slender  powers  for  great  ends ;  but  it  gave  ma 
something  to  do  on  a  rainy  day,  and  I  acquired  a 
sufficient  knowledge  of  French  to  read  with  pleasure 
La  Fontaine's  "Fables,"  "Le  Medecin  Malgre  Lui" 
and  passages  from  "Athalie." 

I  also  gave  considerable  time  to  the  improvement 
of  my  speech.  I  read  aloud  to  Miss  Sullivan  and 
recited  passages  from  my  favourite  poets,  which  I 
had  committed  to  memory;  she  corrected  my  pro 
nunciation  and  helped  me  to  phrase  and  inflect. 
It  was  not,  however,  until  October,  1893,  after  I 
had  recovered  from  the  fatigue  and  excitement  of 
my  visit  to  the  World's  Fair,  that  I  began  to  have 
lessons  in  special  subjects  at  fixed  hours. 

Miss  Sullivan  and  I  were  at  that  time  in  Hulton, 
Pennsylvania,  visiting  the  family  of  Mr.  William 
Wade.  Mr.  Irons,  a  neighbour  of  theirs,  was  a  good 

78 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  79 

Latin  scholar;  it  was  arranged  that  I  should  study 
under  him.  I  remember  him  as  a  man  of  rare, 
sweet  nature  and  of  wide  experience.  He  taught 
me  Latin  grammar  principally;  but  he  of  ten  helped 
me  in  arithmetic,  which  I  found  as  troublesome  as 
it  was  uninteresting.  Mr.  Irons  also  read  with  me 
Tennyson's  "In  Memoriam."  I  had  read  many 
books  before,  but  never  from  a  critical  point  of  view. 
I  learned  for  the  first  time  to  know  an  author,  to 
recognize  his  style  as  I  recognize  the  clasp  of  a 
friend's  hand. 

At  first  I  was  rather  unwilling  to  study  Latin 
grammar.  It  seemed  absurd  to  waste  time  analyzing 
every  word  I  came  across — noun,  genitive,  singular, 
feminine — when  its  meaning  was  quite  plain.  I 
thought  I  might  just  as  well  describe  my  pet  in  order 
to  know  it — order,  vertebrate;  division,  quadruped; 
class,  mammalia;  genus,  felinus;  species,  cat;  indi 
vidual,  Tabby.  But  as  I  got  deeper  into  the  subject, 
I  became  more  interested,  and  the  beauty  of  the 
language  delighted  me.  I  often  amused  myself  by 
reading  Latin  passages,  picking  up  words  I  under 
stood  and  trying  to  make  sense.  I  have  never 
ceased  to  enjoy  this  pastime. 

There  is  nothing  more  beautiful,  I  think,  than 
the  evanescent  fleeting  images  and  sentiments  pre-  • 
sented  by  a  language  one  is  just  becoming  familiar 
with — ideas  that  flit  across  the  mental  sky,  shaped 
and  tinted  by  capricious  fancy.  Miss  Sullivan 
sat  beside  me  at  my  lessons,  spelling  into  my 
hand  whatever  Mr.  Irons  said,  and  looking  up 
new  words  for  me.  I  was  just  beginning  to  read 
.'s  i( Gallic  War"  when  I  went  to  my  home  in 
Alabama. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

IN  the  summer  of  1894,  I  attended  the  meeting 
at  Chautauqua  of  the  American  Association  to  Pro 
mote  the  Teaching  of  Speech  to  the  Deaf.  There 
it  was  arranged  that  I  should  go  to  the  Wright-Humason 
School  for  the  Deaf  in  New  York  City.  I  went  there 
in  October,  1894,  accompanied  by  Miss  Sullivan. 
This  school  was  chosen  especially  for  the  purpose 
of  obtaining  the  highest  advantages  in  vocal  culture 
and  training  in  lip-reading.  In  addition  to  my  work 
in  these  subjects,  I  studied,  during  the  two  years  I  was 
in  the  school,  arithmetic,  physical  geography  French 
and  German. 

Miss  Reamy,  my  German  teacher,  could  use  the 
manual  alphabet,  and  after  I  had  acquired  a  small 
vocabulary,  we  talked  together  in  German  whenever 
we  had  a  chance,  and  in  a  few  months  I  could  under 
stand  almost  everything  she  said.  Before  the  end 
of  the  first  year  I  read  "Wilhelm  Tell"  with  the  greatest 
delight.  Indeed,  I  think  I  made  more  progress  in 
German  than  in  any  of  my  other  studies.  I  found 
French  much  more  difficult.  I  studied  it  with  Madame 
Olivier,  a  French  lady  who  did  not  know  the  man 
ual  alphabet,  and  who  was  obliged  to  give  her  instruction 
orally.  I  could  not  read  her  lips  easily;  so  my  progress 
was  much  slower  than  in  German.  I  managed,  how 
ever,  to  read  "Le  Medecin  MalgreLui"  again.  It  was 
very  amusing  but  I  did  not  like  it  nearly  so  well  as 
"Wilhelm  Tell." 


Photograph  by  Marshall,  1902 

MISS    KELLER   AND    DR.  ALEXANDER    GRAHAM   BELL 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  81 

My  progress  in  lip-reading  and  speech  was  not  what 
tny  teachers  and  I  had  hoped  and  expected  it  would 
be.  It  was  my  ambition  to  speak  like  other  people, 
and  my  teachers  believed  that  this  could  be  accom 
plished  ;  but,  although  we  worked  hard  and  faithfully/ 
yet  we  did  not  quite  reach  our  goal.  I  suppose  we 
aimed  too  high,  and  disappointment  was  therefore 
inevitable.  I  still  regarded  arithmetic  as  a  system 
of  pitfalls.  I  hung  about  the  dangerous  frontier 
of  "  guess,"  avoiding  with  infinite  trouble  to  myself 
and  others  the  broad  valley  of  reason.  When 
I  was  not  guessing,  I  was  jumping  at  conclusions, 
and  this  fault,  in  addition  to  my  dullness, 
aggravated  my  difficulties  more  than  was  right  of 
necessary. 

But  although  these  disappointments  caused  me 
great  depression  at  times,  I  pursued  my  other 
studies  with  unflagging  interest,  especially  physic 
geography.  It  was  a  joy  to  learn  the  secrets  o: 
nature:  how — in  the  picturesque  language  of  the 
Old  Testament — the  winds  are  made  to  blow  from 
the  four  corners  of  the  heavens,  how  the  vapours 
ascend  from  the  ends  of  the  earth,  how  rivers  are 
cut  out  among  the  rocks,  and  mountains  overturned 
by  the  roots,  and  in  what  ways  man  may  overcome 
many  forces  mightier  than  himself.  The  two  years 
in  New  York  were  happy  ones,  and  I  look  back  to 
them  with  genuine  pleasure. 

I   remember   especially  the   walks    we   all  took  | 
together  every  day  in  Central  Park,  the  only  part  of  ; 
the  city  that  was  congenial  to  me.     I  never  lost  a 
jot  of  my  delight  in  this  great  park.     I  loved  to  have 
it  described   every   time   I   entered   it;   for  it  was 
beautiful  in  all  its  aspects,  and  these  aspects  were 


82  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

so  many  that  it  was  beautiful  in  a  different  way  each 
day  of  the  nine  months  I  spent  in  New  York. 

In  the  spring  we  made  excursions  to  various 
places  of  interest.  We  sailed  on  the  Hudson  River 
and  wandered  about  on  its  green  banks,  of  which 
Bryant  loved  to  sing.  J  liked  the  simple,  wild 
grandeur  of  the  palisades.  Among  the  places  I 
visited  were  West  Point,  Tarry  town,  the  home 
of  Washington  Irving,  where  I  walked  through 
"Sleepy  Hollow." 

The  teachers  at  the , Wright-Humason  Scho@l  were 
always  planning  how  they  might  give  the  pupils 
every  advantage  that  those  who  hear  enjoy  —  ho'W 
they  might  make  much  of  few  tendencies  ancj 
passive  memories  in  the  cases  of  the  little  ones  — - 
and  lead  them  out  of  the  cramping  circumstance? 
in  which  their  lives  were  set. 

Before  I  left  New  York,  these  bright  days  were 
'darkened  by  the  greatest  sorrow  that  I  have  ever 
borne,  except  the  death  of  my  father.  Mr.  John  P. 
Spaulding,  of  Boston,  died  in  February,  1896. 
Only  those  who  knew  and  loved  him  best  can 
understand  what  his  friendship  meant  to  me. 
He,  who  made  every  one  happy  in  a  beautiful, 
unobtrusive  way,  was  most  kind  and  tender  to  Miss 
Sullivan  and  me.  So  long  as  we  felt  his  loving 
presence  and  knew  that  he  took  a  watchful  interest 
in  our  work,  fraught  with  so  many  difficulties,  we 
could  not  be  discouraged.  His  going  away  left  a 
vacancy  in  our  lives  that  has  never  been  filled. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

IN  OCTOBER,  1896, 1  entered  the  Cambridge  School 
for  Young  Ladies,  to  be  prepared  for  Radcliffe. 

When  I  was  a  little  girl,  I  visited  Wellesley 
and  surprised  my  friends  by  the  announcement, 
"Some  day  I  shall  go  to  college — but  I  shall  go  to 
Harvard!"  When  asked  why  I  would  not  go  to 
W^ellesley,  I  replied  that  there  were  only  girls  there. 
The  thought  of  going  to  college  took  root  in  my  heart 
and  became  an  earnest  desire,  which  impelled  me  to  I 
enter  into  competition  for  a  degree  with  seeing  and  I 
hearing  girls,  in  the  face  of  the  strong  opposition  of 
many  true  and  wise  friends.  When  I  left  New  York 
the  idea  had  become  a  fixed  purpose;  and  it  was 
decided  that  I  should  go  to  Cambridge.  This  was 
the  nearest  approach  I  could  get  to  Harvard  and  to 
the  fulfillment  of  my  childish  declaration. 

At  the  Cambridge  School  the  plan  was  to  have 
Miss  Sullivan  attend  the  classes  with  me  and 
interpret  to  me  the  instruction  given. 

Of  course  my  instructors  had  had  no  experience 
in  teaching  any  but  normal  pupils,  and  my  only 
means  of  conversing  with  them  was  reading 
their  lips.  My  studies  for  the  first  year  were 
English  history,  English  literature,  German,  Latin, 
arithmetic,  Latin  composition  and  occasional 
themes.  Until  then  I  had  never  taken  a  course  of 
study  with  the  idea  of  preparing  for  college;  but  1 
iiad  been  well  drilled  in  English  by  Miss  Sullivan, 

83  , 


84  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

and  it  soon  became  evident  to  my  teachers  that  I 
needed  no  special  instruction  in  this  subject  beyond 
a  critical  study  of  the  books  prescribed  by  the 
college.  I  had  had,  moreover,  a  good  start  in 
French,  and  received  six  months'  instruction  in 
Latin;  but  German  was  the  subject  with  which  I 
was  most  familiar. 

In  spite,  however,  of  these  advantages,  there 
were  serious  drawbacks  to  my  progress.  Miss 
Sullivan  could  not  spell  out  in  my  hand  all  that  the 
books  required,  and  it  was  very  difficult  to  have 
text-books  embossed  in  time  to  be  of  use  to  me, 
although  my  friends  in  London  and  Philadelphia 
were  willing  to  hasten  the  work.  For  a  wrhile, 
indeed,  I  had  to  copy  my  Latin  in  braille,  so  that 
I  could  recite  with  the  other  girls.  My  instructors 
soon  became  sufficiently  familiar  with  my  imperfect 
speech  to  answer  my  questions  readily  and  correct 
mistakes.  I  could  not  make  notes  in  class  or  write 
exercises;  but  I  wrote  all  my  compositions  and 
translations  at  home  on  my  typewriter. 

Each  day  Miss  Sullivan  went  to  the  classes  with 
me  and  spelled  into  my  hand  with  infinite  patience 
all  that  the  teachers  said.  In  study  hours  she  had 
to  look  up  new  words  for  me  and  read  and  reread 
notes  and  books  I  did  not  have  in  raised  print.  The, 
tedium  of  that  work  is  hard  to  conceive.  Frau 
Grote,  my  German  teacher,  and  Mr.  Gilman,  the 
principal,  were  the  only  teachers  in  the  school  who 
learned  the  finger  alphabet  to  give  me  instruction. 
No  one  realized  more  fully  than  dear  Frau  Grote 
how  slow  and  inadequate  her  spelling  was.  Never 
theless,  in  the  goodness  of  her  heart  she  laboriously 
spelled  out  her  instructions  to  me  in  special  lessons 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  85 

twice  a  week,  to  give  Miss  Sullivan  a  little  rest. 
But,  though  everybody  was  kind  and  ready  to  help 
us,  there  was  only  one  hand  that  could  turn  drudgery 
into  pleasure. 

That  year  I  finished  arithmetic,  reviewed  my 
Latin  grammar,  and  read  three  chapters  of  Caesar's 
"  Gallic  War."  In  German  I  read,  partly  with  my 
fingers  and  partly  with  Miss  Sullivan's  assistance, 
Schiller's  "Lied  von  der  Glocke"  and  "Taucher," 
Heine's  "Harzreise,"  Freytag's  "Aus  dem  Staat 
Friedrichs  des  Grossen,"  Riehl's  "Fluch  Der 
Schonheit,"  Lessing's  "Minna  von  Barnhelm,"  and 
Goethe's  "Aus  meinem  Leben."  I  took  the  greatest 
delight  in  these  German  books,  especially  Schiller's 
wonderful  lyrics,  the  history  of  Frederick  the  Great's 
magnificent  achievements  and  the  account  of 
Goethe's  life.  I  was  sorry  to  finish  "Die  Harz 
reise,"  so  full  of  happy  witticisms  and  charming 
descriptions  of  vine-clad  hills,  streams  that  sing  and 
ripple  in  the  sunshine,  and  wild  regions,  sacred  to 
tradition  and  legend,  the  gray  sisters  of  a  long- 
vanished,  imaginative  age — descriptions  such  as 
can  be  given  only  by  those  to  whom  nature  is  "a 
feeling,  a  love  and  an  appetite." 

Mr.  Gilman  instructed  me  part  of  the  year  in 
English  literature.  We  read  together,  "As  You 
Like  It,"  Burke's  "Speech  on  Conciliation  with 
America,"  and  Macaulay's  "Life  of  Samuel 
Johnson."  Mr.  Gilman' s  broad  views  of  history 
and  literature  and  his  clever  explanations  made 
my  work  easier  and  pleasanter  than  it  could  have 
been  had  I  only  read  notes  mechanically  with  the 
necessarily  brief  explanations  given  in  the  classes. 

Burke's  speech  was  more  instructive  than  any 


86  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

other  book  on  a  political  subject  that  I  had  ever 
read.  My  mind  stirred  with  the  stirring  times,  and 
the  characters  round  which  the  life  of  two  contend 
ing  nations  centred  seemed  to  move  right  before 
rue.  I  wondered  more  and  more,  while  Burke's 
masterly  speech  rolled  on  in  mighty  surges  of 
eloquence,  how  it  was  that  King  George  and  his< 
ministers  could  have  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  his  warn-) 
ing  prophecy  of  our  victory  and  their  humiliation. 
Then  I  entered  into  the  melancholy  details  of  the 
relation  in  which  the  great  statesman  stood  to  his 
party  and  to  trie  representatives  of  the  people.  I 
thought  how  strange  it  was  that  such  precious  seeds 
of  truth,  and  wisdom  should  have  fallen  among  the 
tares  of  ignorance  and  corruption. 

In  a  different  way  Macaulay's  "Life  of  Samuel 
Johnson"  was  interesting.  My  heart  went  out  tc 
the  lonely  man  who  ate  the  bread  of  affliction  in 
Grub  Street,  and  yet,  in  the  midst  of  toil  and  cruel 
Buffering  of  body  and  soul,  always  had  a  kind  word, 
and  lent  a  helping  hand  to  the  poor  and  despised, 
I  rejoiced  over  all  his  successes,  I  shut  my  eyes  to 
his  faults,  and  wondered,  not  that  he  had  them,  but 
that  they  had  not  crushed  or  dwarfed  his  soul.  But 
in  spite  of  Macaulay's  brilliancy  and  his  admirable 
faculty  of  making  the  commonplace  seem  fresh  and 
picturesque,  his  positiveness  wearied  me  at  times, 
and  his  frequent  sacrifices  of  truth  to  effect  kept 
me  in  a  questioning  attitude  very  unlike  the  atti 
tude  of  reverence  in  which  I  had  listened  to  the 
Demosthenes  of  Great  Britain. 

At  the  Cambridge  school,  for  the  first  time  in  rny 
life,  I  enjoyed  the  companionship  of  seeing  and  hear^ 
ing  girls  of  my  own  age.  I  lived  with  several  others 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  87 

in  one  of  the  pleasant  houses  connected  with  the 
school,  the  house  where  Mr.  Howells  used  to  live, 
and  we  all  had  the  advantage  of  home  life.     I  joined 
them  in  many  of  their  games,   even  blind  man's 
buff  and  frolics  in  the  snow ;  I  took  long  walks  with 
them;  we  discussed  our  studies  and  read  aloud  the 
things  that  interested  us.      Some  of  the  girls  learned 
to  speak  to  me,  so  that  Miss  Sullivan  did  not  have 
f,o  repeat  their  conversation. 

At  Christmas,  my  mother  and  little  sister  spent 
the  holidays  with  me,  and  Mr.  Oilman  kindly  offered 
to  let  Mildred  study  in  his  school.  So  Mildred 
stayed  with  me  in  Cambridge,  and  for  six  happy 
months  we  were  hardly  ever  apart.  It  makes  me 
most  happy  to  remember  the  hours  we  spent  helping 
each  other  in  study  and  sharing  our  recreation 
together. 

I  took  my  preliminary,  examinations  for  Radclifle 
from  the  2  c>th  of  June  to  the  3rd  of  July  in  1 89  7 .  The 
subjects  I  offered  were  Elementary  and  Advanced 
German,  French,  Latin,  English,  and  Greek  and 
Roman  history,  making  nine  hours  in  all.  I  passed 
in  everything,  and  received  "honours"  in  German 
and  English. 

Perhaps  an  explanation  of  the  method  that  was 
in  use  when  I  took  my  examinations  will  not  be 
amiss  here.  The  student  was  required  to  pass  in 
sixteen  hours — twelve  hours  being  called  elementary 
and  four  advanced.  He  had  to  pass  five  hours  at 
a  time  to  have  them  counted.  The  examination 
papers  were  given  out  at  nine  o'clock  at  Harvard 
and  brought  to  Radcliffe  by  a  special  messenger. 
Each  candidate  was  known,  not  by  his  namet 
but  by  a  number.  I  was  No.  233,  but.  as  I 


SB  J          THE  STORY  OF  MY   LIFE 


had  to  use  a  typewriter,  my  identity  could  not  be 
concealed. 

It  was  thought  advisable  for  me  to  have  my 
examinations  in  a  room  by  myself,  because  the  noise 
of  the  typewriter  might  disturb  the  other  girls. 
Mr.  Oilman  read  all  the  papers  to  me  by  means  of 
the  manual  alphabet.  A  man  was  placed  on  guard 
at  the  door  to  prevent  interruption. 

The  first  day  I  had  German.  Mr.  Oilman  sat 
beside  me  and  read  the  paper  through  first,  then 
sentence  by  sentence,  while  I  repeated  the  word^ 
aloud,  to  make  sure  that  I  understood  him  perfectly. 
The  papers  were  difficult,  and  I  felt  very  anxious  as 
I  wrote  out  my  answers  on  the  typewriter.  Mr. 
Oilman  spelled  to  me  what  I  had  written,  and  I  made 
such  changes  as  I  thought  necessary,  and  he  inserted 
them.  I  wish  to  say  here  that  I  have  not  had  this 
advantage  since  in  any  of  my  examinations.  At 
Radcliffe  no  one  reads  the  papers  to  me  after  they 
are  written,  and  I  have  no  opportunity  to  correct 
errors  unless  I  finish  before  the  time  is  up.  In 
that  case  I  correct  only  such  mistakes  as  I  can 
recall  in  the  few  minutes  allowed,  and  make  notes 
of  these  corrections  at  the  end  of  my  paper.  If  1 
passed  with  higher  credit  in  the  preliminaries  than 
in  the  finals,  there  are  two  reasons.  In  the  finals, 
no  one  read  my  work  over  to  me,  and  in  the 
preliminaries  I  offered  subjects  with  some  of  which 
I  was  in  a  measure  familiar  before  my  work  in  the 
Cambridge  school ;  for  at  the  beginning  of  the  year 
I  had  passed  examinations  in  English,  History, 
French  and  German,  which  Mr.  Oilman  gave  me 
from  previous  Harvard  papers. 

Mr.  Oilman  sent  my  written  work  to  tbe  examiner? 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  89 

with  a  certificate  that  I,  candidate  No.  233,  had 
written  the  papers. 

All  the  other  preliminary  examinations  were 
i  conducted  in  the  same  manner.  None  of  them  was 
so  difficult  as  the  first.  I  remember  that  the  day 
the  Latin  paper  was  brought  to  us,  Professor 
Schilling  came  in  and  informed  me  I  had  passed 
satisfactorily  in  German.  This  encouraged  me 
greatly,  and  I  sped  on  to  the  end  of  the  ordeal 
with  a  light  heart  and  a  steady  hand. 


CHAPTER   XIX 

WHEN  I  began  my  second  year  at  the  Oilman 
school,  I  was  full  of  hope  and  determination  tc 
succeed.  But  during  the  first  few  weeks  I  was  con 
fronted  with  unforeseen  difficulties.  Mr.  Gilman  had, 
agreed  that  that  year  I  should  study  mathematics 
principally.  I  had  physics,  algebra,  geometry, 
astronomy,  Greek  and  Latin.  Unfortunately,  many 
of  the  books  I  needed  had  not  been  embossed  in 
time  for  me  to  begin  with  the  classes,  and  I  lacked 
important  apparatus  for  some  of  my  studies.  The 
classes  I  was  in  were  very  large,  and  it  was  impossible 
for  the  teachers  to  give  me  special  instruction. 
Miss  Sullivan  was  obliged  to  read  all  the  books  to  me, 
and  interpret  for  the  instructors,  and  for  the  first 
time  in  eleven  years  it  seemed  as  if  her  dear  hand 
would  not  be  equal  to  the  task. 

It  was  necessary  for  me  to  write  algebra  and 
geometry  in  class  and  solve  problems  in  physics,  and 
this  I  could  not  do  until  we  bought  a  braille  writer, 
by  means  of  which  I  could  put  down  the  steps  and 
processes  of  my  work.  I  could  not  follow  with  my 
eyes  the  geometrical  figures  drawn  on  the  black 
board,  and  my  only  means  of  getting  a  clear  idea  of 
them  was  to  make  them  on  a  cushion  with  straight 
and  curved  wires,  which  had  bent  and  pointed  ends. 
I  had  to  carry  in  my  mind,  as  Mr.  Keith  says  in  his 
report,  the  lettering  of  the  figures,  the  hypothesis 
and  conclusion,  the  construction  and  the  process  of 

00 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 


the  proof.  In  a  word,  every  study  had  its  obstacles. 
Sometimes  I  lost  all  courage  and  betrayed  my 
feelings  in  a  way  I  am  ashamed  to  remember, 
especially  as  the  signs  of  my  trouble  were  afterward 
used  against  Miss  Sullivan,  the  only  person  of  all  the 
kind  friends  I  had  there,  who  could  make  the  crooked 
straight  and  the  rough  places  smooth, 

Little  by  little,  however,  my  difficulties  began  to 
disappear.  The  embossed  books  and  other  appa 
ratus  arrived,  and  I  threw  myself  into  the  work  with 
renewed  confidence.  Algebra  and  geometry  were 
the  only  studies  that  continued  to  defy  my  efforts 
to  comprehend  them.  As  I  have  said  before,  I 
had  no  aptitude  for  mathematics;  the  different 
points  were  not  explained  to  me  as  fully  as  I  wished. 
The  geometrical  diagrams  were  particularly  vexing 
because  I  could  not  see  the  relation  of  the  different 
parts  to  one  another,  even  on  the  cushion.  It  was 
not  until  Mr.  Keith  taught  me  that  I  had  a  clear 
idea  of  mathematics. 

I  was  beginning  to  overcome  these  difficulties 
when  an  event  occurred  which  changed  everything. 

Just  before  the  books  came,  Mr.  Oilman  had  begun 
to  remonstrate  with  Miss  Sullivan  on  the  ground 
that  I  was  working  too  hard,  and  in  spite  of  my 
earnest  protestations,  he  reduced  the  number  of 
rny  recitations.  At^  the  beginning  we  had  agreed 
that  I  should,  if  necessary,  take  five  years  to  prepare 
for  college,  but  at  the  end  of  the  first  year  the 
success  of  my  examinations  showed  Miss  Sullivan, 
Miss  Harbaugh  (Mr.  Oilman's  head  teacher),  and 
one  other,  that  I  could  without  too  much  effort 
complete  my  preparation  in  two  years  more.  Mr. 
Gilrnaa  at  first  agreed  to  this ;  but  when  my  tasks 


g2  THE   STORY    OF   MY   LIFE 

had  become  somewhat  perplexing,  he  insisted  that 
I  was  overworked,  and  that  I  should  remain  at  his 
school  three  years  longer.  I  did  not  like  his  plan, 
for  I  wished  to  enter  college  with  my  class. 

On  the  seventeenth  of  November  I  was  not  very 
well,  and  did  not  go  to  school.  Although  Miss 
Sullivan  knew  that  my  indisposition  was  not  serious, 
yet  Mr.  Oilman,  on  hearing  of  it,  declared  that 
I  was  breaking  down  and  made  changes  in  my 
studies  which  would  have  rendered  it  impossible  for 
me  to  take  my  final  examinations  with  my  class. 
In  the  end  the  difference  of  opinion  between  Mr. 
Oilman  and  Miss  Sullivan  resulted  in  my  mother's 
withdrawing  my  sister  Mildred  and  me  from  the 
Cambridge  School. 

After  some  delay  it  was  arranged  that  I  should 
continue  my  studies  under  a  tutor,  Mr.  Merton  S. 
Keith,  of  Cambridge.  Miss  Sullivan  and  I  spent  the 
rest  of  the  winter  with  our  friends,  the  Chamberlins 
in  Wrentham,  twenty-five  miles  from  Boston. 

From  February  to  July,  1898,  Mr.  Keith  came  out 
to  Wrentham  twice  a  week,  and  taught  me  algebra, 
geometry,  Greek  and  Latin.  Miss  Sullivan  inter 
preted  his  instruction. 

In  October,  1898,  we  returned  to  Boston.  For 
eight  months  Mr.  Keith  gave  me  lessons  five  times  a 
week,  in  periods  of  about  an  hour.  He  explained 
each  time  what  I  did  not  understand  in  the  previous 
lesson,  assigned  new  work,  and  took  home  with  him 
the  Greek  exercises  which  I  had  written  during  the 
week  on  my  typewriter,  corrected  them  fully,  and 
returned  them  to  me. 

In  this  way  my  preparation  for  college  went 
on  without  interruption.  I  found  it  much  easier  and 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  93 

pleasanter  to  be  taught  by  myself  than  to  receive 
instruction  in  class.  There  was  no  hurry,  no  con 
fusion.  My  tutor  had  plenty  of  time  to  explain 
what  I  did  not  understand,  so  I  got  on  faster  and  did 
better  work  than  I  ever  did  in  school.  I  still  found 
more  difficulty  in  mastering  problems  in  mathe 
matics  than  I  did  in  any  other  of  my  studies.  I 
wish  algebra  and  geometry  had  been  half  as  easy 
as  the  languages  and  literature.  But  even  mathe* 
matics  Mr.  Keith  made  interesting;  he  succeeded  in 
whittling  problems  small  enough  to  get  through 
my  brain.  He  kept  my  mind  alert  and  eager,  and 
trained  it  to  reason  clearly,  and  to  seek  conclusions 
calmly  and  logically,  instead  of  jumping  wildly  into 
space  and  arriving  nowhere.  He  was  always  gentle 
and  forbearing,  no  matter  how  dull  I  might  be,  and 
believe  me,  my  stupidity  would  often  have  exhausted 
the  patience  of  Job. 

On  the  2gth  and  3oth  of  June,  1899,  I  took  my 
final  examinations  for  Radcliffe  College.  The  first 
day  I  had  Elementary  Greek  and  Advanced  Latin, 
and  the  second  day  Geometry,  Algebra  and  Advanced 
Greek. 

The  college  authorities  did  not  allow  Miss  Sullivan 
to  read  the  examination  papers  to  me ;  so  Mr.  Eugene 
C.  Vining,  one  of    the    instructors  at  the  Perkins/ 
Institution  for  the  Blind,  was  employed  to  copy  thei 
papers  for  me  in  American  braille.     Mr.  Vining  was 
a  stranger  to  me,  and  could  not  communicate  with 
me,  except  by  writing  braille.     The  proctor  was  also 
a  stranger,  and  did  not  attempt  to  communicate 
with  me  in  any  way. 

The  braille  worked  well  enough  in  the  languages, 
but  when  it  came  to  geometry  and  algebra.,  difficulties 


94  THE  STORY  OF  MY  "LIFE 

arose.*  I  was  sorely  perplexed,  and  felt  discouraged 
wasting  much,  precious  time,  especially  in  algebra. 
It  is  true  that  I  was  familiar  with  all  literary 
braille  in  common  use  in  this  country — English, 
American,  and  New  York  Point;  but  the  various 
signs  and  symbols  in  geometry  and  algebra  in  the 
three  systems  are  very  different,  and  I  had  used  only 
the  English  braille  in  my  algebra. 

Two  days  befGre  the  examinations,  Mr.  Vining 
sent  me  a  braille  copy  of  one  of  the  old  Harvard 
papers  in  algebra.  To  my  dismay  I  found  that  it* 
was  in  the  American  notation.  I  sat  down  immedi 
ately  and  wrote  to  Mr.  Vining,  asking  him  to  explain 
,tihe  signs.  I  received  another  paper  and  a  table  of 
eigns  by  return  mail,  and  I  set  to  work  to  learn  the 
notation.  But  on  the  night  before  the  algebra 
examination,  while  I  was  struggling  over  some  very 
eomplicated  examples,  I  could  not  tell  the  combina 
tions  of  bracket,  brace  and  radical.  Both  Mr. 
Keith  and  I  were  distressed  and  full  of  forebodings 
for  the  morrow;  but  we  went  over  to  the  college 
a  little  before  the  examination  began,  and  ha<3 
Mr.  Vining  explain  more  fully  the  American 
symbols. 

In  geometry  my  chief  difficulty  was  that  I  had 
always  been  accustomed  to  read  the  propositions  in 
line  print,  or  to  have  them  spelled  into  my  hand; 
and  somehow,  although  the  propositions  were  right 
before  me,  I  found  the  braille  confusing,  and  could 
not  fix  clearly  in  my  mind  what  I  was  reading.  But 
when  I  took  up  algebra  I  had  a  harder  time  still. 
The  signs,  which  I  had  so  lately  learned,  and  which 
I  thought  I  knew,  perplexed  me.  Besides,  I  could 

•     *See  Miss  Keller's  letter,  page  259. 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  95 

not  see  what  I  wrote  on  my  typewriter.  I  had 
always  done  my  work  in  braille  or  in  my  head. 
Mr.  Keith  had  relied  too  much  on  my  ability  to 
solve  problems  mentally,  and  had  not  trained  me  to 
write  examination  papers.  Consequently  my  work 
was  painfully  slow,  and  I  had  to  read  the  examples 
over  and  over  before  I  could  form  any  idea  of 
what  I  was  required  to  do.  Indeed,  I  am  not  sure 
now  that  I  read  all  the  signs  correctly.  I  found  it 
very  hard  to  keep  my  wits  about  me. 

But  I  do  not  blame  any  one.  The  administrative 
board  of  Radcliffe  did  not  realize  how  difficult  they 
were  making  my  examinations,  nor  did  they  under 
stand  the  peculiar  difficulties  I  had  to  surmount. 
But  if  they  unintentionally  placed  obstacles  in 
my  way,  I  have  the  consolation  of  knowing  that  I 
overcame  them  all. 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE  struggle  for  admission  to  college  was  ended, 
and  I  could  now  enter  Radcliffe  whenever  I  pleased. 
Before  I  entered  college,  however,  it  was  thought 
best  that  I  should  study  another  year  under  Mr. 
Keith.  It  was  not,  therefore,  until  the  fall  of  1900 
that  my  dream  of  going  to  college  was  realized. 

I  remember  my  first  day  at  Radcliffe.  It  was  a 
day  full  of  interest  for  me.  I  had  looked  forward  to 
it  for  years.  A  potent  force  within  me,  stronger 
than  the  persuasion  of  my  friends,  stronger  even 
than  the  pleadings  of  my  heart,  had  impelled  me  tc 
try  my  strength  by  the  standards  of  those  who  see 
and  hear.  I  knew  that  there  were  obstacles  in  the 
way;  but  I  was  eager  to  overcome  them.  I  had 
taken  to  heart  the  words  of  the  wise  Roman  who 
said,  "  To  be  banished  from  Rome  is  but  to  live  out 
side  of  Rome."  Debarred  from  the  great  high;,  jays 
of  knowledge,  I  was  compelled  to  make  the  journey 
across  country  by  unfrequented  roads — that  was 
all;  and  I  knew  that  in  college  there  were  many 
bypaths  where  I  could  touch  hands  with  girls  who 
were  thinking,  loving  and  struggling  like  me. 

I  began  my  studies  with  eagerness.  Before  me 
I  saw  a  new  world  opening  in  beauty  and  light,  and 
I  felt  within  me  the  capacity  to  know  all  things. 
In  the  wonderland  of  Mind  I  should  be  as  free 
as  another.  Its  people,  scenery,  manners,  joys, 
tragedies  should  be  living,  tangible  interpreters  of 

Q6 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  97 

the  real  world.  The  lecture-halls  seemed  rilled 
with  the  spirit  of  the  great  and  the  wise,  and  I 
thought  the  professors  were  the  embodiment  of 
wisdom.  If  I  have  since  learned  differently,  I  am 
not  going  to  tell  anybody. 

But  I  soon  discovered  that  college  was  not  quite 
the  romantic  lyceum  I  had  imagined.  Many  of  the 
dreams  that  had  delighted  my  young  inexperience 
became  beautifully  less  and  "faded  into,  the  light 
of  common  day."  Gradually  I  began  to  find  that 
there  were  disadvantages  in  going  to  college. 

The  one  I  felt  and  still  feel  most  is  lack  of  time. 
I  used  to  have  time  to  think,  to  reflect,  my  mind  and 
I.  We  would  sit  together  of  an  evening  and  listen 
to  the  inner  melodies  of  the  spirit,  which  one  hears 
only  in  leisure  moments  when  the  words  of  some  ' 
loved  poet  touch  a  deep,  sweet  chord  in  the  soul  that 
until  then  had  been  silent.  But  in  college  there  is 
no  time  to  commune  with  one's  thoughts.  One  goes 
to  college  to  learn,  it  seems,  not  to  think.  When 
one  enters  the  portals  of  learning,  one  leaves  the 
dearest  pleasures — solitude,  books  and  imagination 
—outside  with  the  whispering  pines.  I  suppose  I 
ought  to  find  some  comfort  in  the  thought  that  I  am 
laying  up  treasures  for  future  enjoyment,  but  I  am 
improvident  enough  to  prefer  present  joy  to  hoard^ 
ing  riches  against  a  rainy  day. 

My  studies  the  first  year  were  French,  German, 
history,  English  composition  and  English  literature. 
In  the  French  course  I  read  some  of  the  works  of 
Corneille,  Moliere,  Racine,  Alfred  de  Musset  and 
Sainte-Beuve,  and  in  the  German  those  of  Goethe 
and  Schiller.  I  reviewed  rapidly  the  whole  period 
of  history  from  the  fall  of  the  Roman  Empire  to  the 


J 


THE   STORY  OF   MY  LIFE 


eighteenth  century,  and  in  English  literature  studied 
critically  Milton's  poems  and  "  Areopagitica." 

I  am  frequently  asked  how  I  overcome  the  pecu 
liar  conditions  under  which  I  work  in  college.  JEn 
the  classroom  I  am  of  course  practically.,  alone.  The 
professor  is  as  remote  as  if  he  were  speaking  through 
a  telephone.  The  lectures  are  spelled  into  my_h.and 
as  rapidly  as  possible,  and  much  of  the  individuality 
of  the  lecturer  is  lost  to  me  in  the  effort  to  keep  in  the 
race.  The  words  rush  through  my  hand  like  hounds 
in  pursuit  of  a  hare  which  they  often  miss.  But  in 
this  respect  I  do  not  think  I  am  much  worse  off  than 
the  girls  who  take  notes.  If  the  mind  is  occupied 
I  with  the  mechanical  process  of  hearing  and  putting 
\  words  on  paper  at  pell-mell  speed,  I  should  not 
I  think  one  could  pay  much  attention  to  the  subject 
•under  consideration  or  the  manner  in  which  it  is 
presented.  I  cannot  make  notes  during  the  lectures, 
because  my  hands,. are.  busy  .listening.  Usually  I 
jot  down  what  I  can  remember  of  them  when  I 
get  home.  I  write  the  exercises,  daily  themes, 
criticisms  and  hour-tests,  the  mid-year  and  final 
examinations,  on  my  typewriter,  so  that  the  profes 
sors  have  no  difficulty  in  finding  out  how  little  I 
know.  When  I  began  the  study  of  Latin  prosody, 
I  devised  and  explained  to  my  professor  a  system  of 
signs  indicating  the  different  meters  and  quantities. 
I  use  the  Hammond  typewriter.  I  have  tried 
many  machines,  and  I  find  the  Hammond  is  the 
best  adapted  to  the  peculiar  needs  of  my  work. 
With  this  machine  movable  type  shuttles  can  be 
used,  and  one  can  have  several  shuttles,  each 
with  a  different  set  of  characters — Greek,  French, 
or  mathematical,  according  to  the  kind  of  writing 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  99 

one  wishes  to  do  on  the  typewriter.  Without  it,  I 
doubt  if  I  could  go  to  college. 

Very  few  of  the  books  required  in  the  various 
courses  are  printed  for  the  blind,  and  I  am  obliged 
to  have  them  spelled  into  my  hand.  Consequently 
I  need  more  time  to  prepare  my  lessons  than  other 
girls.  The  manual  part  takes  longer,  and  I  have 
perplexities  which  they  have  not.  There  are  days 
when  the  close  attention  I  must  give  to  details  chafes 
my  spirit,  and  the  thought  that  I  must  spend  hours 
reading  a  few  chapters,  while  in  the  world  without 
other  girls  are  laughing  and  singing  and  dancing, 
makes  me  rebellious;  but  I  soon  recover  my  buoy 
ancy  and  laugh  the  discontent  out  of  my  heart. 
For,  after  all,  every  one  who  wishes  to  gain  true 
knowledge  must  climb  the  Hill  Difficulty  alone, 
and  since  there  is  no  royal  road  to  the  summit,  I 
must  zigzag  it  in  my  own  way.  I  slip  back  many 
times,  I  fall,  I  stand  still,  I  run  against  the  edge  of 
hidden  obstacles,  I  lose  my  temper  and  find  it  again 
and  keep  it  better,  I  trudge  on,  I  gain  a  little,  I  feel 
encouraged,  I  get  more  eager  and  climb  higher  and 
begin  to  see  the  widening  horizon.  __ Every  struggle 
is  a  victory^  One  more  effort  and  I  reach  the 
luminous  cloud,  the  blue  depths  of  the  sky,  the 
uplands  of  my  desire.  I  am  not  always  alone,  how 
ever,  in  these  struggles.  Mr.  William  Wade  and 
Mr.  E.  E.  Allen,  Principal  of  the  Pennsylvania 
Institution  for  the  Instruction  of  the  Blind,  get 
for  me  many  of  the  books  I  need  in  raised  print. 
Their  thougthfulness  has  been  more  of  a  help  and 
encouragement  to  me  than  they  can  ever  know. 

Last  year,  my  second  year  at  Radcliffe,  I  studied 
English  composition,  the  Bible  as  English  literature 


ioo  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

the  governments  of  America  and  Europe,  the  Odes  of 
Horace,  and  Latin  comedy.  The  class  in  composi 
tion  was  the  pleasantest.  It  was  very  lively.  The 
lectures  were  always  interesting,  vivacious,  witty; 
for  the  instructor,  Mr.  Charles  Townsend  Copeland,( 
more  than  any  one  else  I  have  had  until  this! 
year,  brings  before  you  literature  in  all  its 
original  freshness  and  power.  For  one  short 
hour  you  are  permitted  to  drink  in  the  eternal 
beauty  of  the  old  masters  without  needless  inter 
pretation  or  exposition.  You  revel  in  their  fine 
thoughts.  You  enjoy  with  all  your  soul  the  sweet 
thunder  of  the  Old  Testament,  forgetting  the  exist 
ence  of  Jahweh  and  Elohim;  and  you  go  home  feel 
ing  that  you  have  had  aa  glimpse  of  that  perfection 
in  which  spirit  and  form  dwell  in  immortal  har 
mony;  truth  and  beauty  bearing  a  new  growth 
on  the  ancient  stem  of  time." 

This    year     is     the     happiest     because     I     am 
studying    subjects     that    especially     interest    me, 
economics,     Elizabethan     literature,     Shakespeare 
under    Professor    George    L.    Kittredge,    and    the 
History    of    Philosophy    under    Professor    Josiah 
Royce.     Through  philosophy  one  enters  with  sym 
pathy    of    comprehension    into    the    traditions    of 
remote  ages  and  other  modes  of  thought,   which  • 
ere  while  seemed  alien  and  without  reason. 

But  college  is  not  the  universal  Athens  I  thought 
it  was.  There  one  does  not  meet  the  great  and  the 
wise  face  to  face;  one  does  not  even  feel  their  living 
touch.  They  are  there,  it  is  true;  but  they  seem 
mummified.  We  must  extract  them  from  the 
crannied  wall  of  learning  and  dissect  and  analyze 
them  before  we  can  be  sure  that  we  have  a  Milton  off 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  101 

an  Isaiah,  and  not  merely  a  clever  imitation.  Many 
scholars  forget,  it  seems  to  me,  that  our  enjoyment  of 
the  great  works  of  literature  depends  more  upon  the 
depth  of  our  sympathy  than  upon  our  understand 
ing.  The  trouble  is  that  very  few  of  their  laborious 
explanations  stick  in  the  memory.  The  mind  drops 
them  as  a  branch  drops  its  overripe  fruit.  It  is 
possible  to  know  a  flower,  root  and  stem  and  all,  and 
all  the  processes  of  growth,  and  yet  to  have  no  appre 
ciation  of  the  flower  fresh  bathed  in  heaven's  dew. 
Again  and  again  I  ask  impatiently,  "Why  conce 
myself  with  these  explanations  and  hypotheses?"! 
They  fly  hither  and  thither  in  my  thought  like  blind 
birds  beating  the  air  with  ineffectual  wings.  I  do  not 
mean  to  object  to  a  thorough  knowledge  of  the 
famous  works  we  read.  I  object  only  to  the  inter 
minable  comments  and  bewildering  criticisms  that 
teach  but  one  thing:  there  are  as  many  opinions  as 
there  are  men.  But  when  a  great  scholar  like 
Professor  Kittredge  interprets  what  the  master  said, 
it  is  "as  if  new  sight  were  given  the  blind."  He 
brings  back  Shakespeare,  the  poet. 

There  are,  however,  times  when  I  long  to  sweep 
away  half  the  things  I  am  expected  to  learn ;  for  the 
overtaxed  mind  cannot  enjoy  the  treasure  it  has 
secured  at  the  greatest  cost.  ,  It  is  impossible,  I 
think,  to  read  in  one  day  four  or  five  different  books 
in  different  languages  and  treating  of  widely  different 
subjects,  and  not  lose  sight  of  the  very  ends  for  which 
one  reads.  When  one  reads  hurriedly  and  nervously, 
having  in  mind  written  tests  and  examinations, 
one's  brain  becomes  encumbered  with  a  lot  of  choice 
bric-a-brac  for  which  there  seems  to  be  little  use. 
At  the  present  time  my  mind  is  so  full  of  hetero- 


xc2  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

geneous  matter  that  I  almost  despair  of  ever  being 
able  to  put  it  in  order.  Whenever  I  enter  the  region 
that  was  the  kingdom  of  my  mind  I  feel  like  the 
proverbial  bull  in  the  china  shop.  A  thousand  odds 
and  ends  of  knowledge  come  crashing  about  my  head 
like  hailstones,  and  when  I  try  to  escape  them, 
theme-goblins  and  college  nixies  of  all  sorts  pursue 
me,  until  I  wish — oh,  may  I  be  forgiven  the  wicked 
wish ! — that  I  might  smash  the  idols  I  came  to 
worship. 

But  the  examinations  are  the  chief  bugbears  of 
my  college  life.  Although  I  have  faced  them  many 
times  and  cast  them  down  and  made  them  bite  the 
dust,  yet  they  rise  again  and  menace  me  with  pale 
looks,  until  like  Bob  Acres  I  feel  my  courage  oozing 
out  at  my  finger  ends.  The  days  before  these,  ordeals 
take  place  are  spent  in  cramming  your  mind  with 
mystic  formulae  and  indigestible  dates — unpalatable 
diets,  until  you  wish  that  books  and  science  and  you 
were  buried  in  the  depths  of  the  sea. 

At  last  the  dreaded  hour  arrives,  and  you  are  a 
favoured  being  indeed  if  you  feel  prepared,  and  are 
able  at  the  right  time  to  call  to  your  standard 
thoughts  that  will  aid  you  in  that  supreme  effort. 
It  happens  too  often  that  your  trumpet  call  is 
unheeded.  It  is  most  perplexing  and  exasperating 
that  just  at  the  moment  when  you  need  your 
memory  and  a  nice  sense  of  discrimination,  these 
faculties  take  to  themselves  wings  and  fly  away. 
The  facts  you  have  garnered  with  such  infinite 
trouble  invariably  fail  you  at  a  pinch. 

"Give  a  brief  account  of  Huss  and  his  work." 
Huss?  Who  was  he  and  what  did  he  do?  The  name 
looks  strangely  familiar.  You  ransack  your  budget 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 


of  !  historic  facts  much  as  you  would  hunt  for  a  bit  of 
silk  in  a  rag-bag.  You  are  sure  it  is  somewhere  in 
your  mind  near  the  top  —  you  saw  it  there  the  other 
da  vvheii  you  were  looking  up  the  beginnings  of  the 
Re  formation.  But  where  is  it  now?  You  fish  out. 
all  aanner  of  odds  and  ends  of  knowledge  —  revolu-, 
tioiib,  schisms,  massacres,  systems  of  government; 
but  Huss  —  where  is  he  ?  You  are  amazed  at  all  the1 
things  you  know  which  are  not  on  the  examination 
paper.  In  desperation  you  seize  the  budget  and 
dump  everything  out,  and  there  in  a  corner  is  your 
man,  serenely  brooding  on  his  own  private  thought, 
unconscious  of  the  catastrophe  which  he  has  brought 
upon  you. 

Just  then  the  proctor  informs  you  that  the  time 
is  up.  With  a  feeling  of  intense  disgust  you  kick 
the  mass  of  rubbish  into  a  corner  and  go  home,  your 
head  full  of  revolutionary  schemes  to  abolish  the 
divine  right  of  prof  essors  ^to  ask  questions  without 
the  consent  of  the  questioned- 

It  comes  over  me  that  in  the  last  two  or  three 
pages  of  this  chapter  I  have  used  figures  which  will 
turn  the  laugh  against  me.  Ah,  here  they  are  —  the 
mixed  metaphors  mocking  and  strutting  about  before 
me,  pointing  to  the  bull  in  the  china  shop  assailed 
by  hailstones  and  the  bugbears  with  pale  looks, 
an  unanalyzed  species  !  Let  them  mock  on.  The 
words  describe  so  exactly  the  atmosphere  of  jostling, 
tumbling  ideas  I  live  in  that  I  will  wink  at  them  for 
once,  and  put  on  a  deliberate  air  to  say  that  my 
ideas  of  college  have  changed. 

While  my  days  at  Radcliffe  were  still  in  the  future, 
they  were  encircled  with  a  halo  of  romance,  which 
*hey  have  lost;  but  &  the  transition  from  romantic 


jo4  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

to  actual  I  have  learned  many  things  I  shtf  aid 
never  have  known  had  I  not  tried  the  experiment, 
One  of  them  is  the  precious  science  of  patience, 
which  teaches  us  that  we  should  take  our  education 
as  we  would  take  a  walk  in  the  country,  leisurely, 
our  minds  hospitably  open  to  impressions  of  every 
sort.  Such  knowledge  floods  the  soul  unseen  with 
a  soundless  tidal  wave  of  deepening  thought^ 
"Knowledge  is  power."  Rather,  knowledge  fa 
happiness,  because  to  have  knowledge — broad,  deep 
knowledge — is  to  know  true  ends  from  false,  and) 
lofty  things  from  low.  To  know  the  thoughts  and 
deeds  that  have  marked  man's  progress  is  to  feel 
the  great  heart-throbs  of  humanity  through  the 
centuries;  and  if  one  does  not  feel  in  these  pulsa 
tions  a  heavenward  striving,  one  must  indeed  cte 
beaf  to  the  harmonies  of  life. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

I  HAVE  thus  far  sketched  the  events  of  my  life, 
but  I  have  not  shown  how  much  I  have  depended 
On  books  not  only  for  pleasure  and  for  the  wisdom 
they  bring  to  all  who  read,  but  also  for  that  knowl 
edge  which  comes  to  others  through  their  eyes  and 
their  ears.  Indeed,  books  have  meant  so  much 
more  in  my  education  than  in  that  of  others,  that 
I  shall  go  back  to  the  time  when  I  began  to  read. 

I  read  my  first  connected  story  in  May,  1887,  when 
I  was  seven  years  old,  and  from  that  day  to  this  I 
have  devoured  everything  in  the  shape  of  a  printed 
page  that  has  come  within  the  reach  of  my  hungry 
finger  tips.  As  I  have  said,  I  did  not  study  regu 
larly  during  the  early  years  of  my  education;  nor 
did  I  read  according  to  rule. 

At  first  I  had  only  a  few  books  in  raised  print — 
"readers"  for  beginners,  a  collection  of  stories  for 
children,  and  a  book  about  the  earth  called  "Our 
World."  I  think  that  was  all ;  but  I  read  them  over 
and  over,  until  the  words  were  so  worn  and  pressed 
I  could  scarcely  make  them  out.  Sometimes  Miss 
Sullivan  read  to  me,  spelling  into  my  hand  little 
stories  and  poems  that  she  knew  I  should  under 
stand;  but  I  preferred  reading  myself  to  being 
read  to,  because  I  liked  to  read  again  and  again 
the  things  that  pleased  me. 

It  was  during  my  first  visit  to  Boston  that  I  really 
began  to  read  in  good  earnest.  I  was  permitted  to 

105 


io6  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

spend  a  part  of  each  day  in  the  Institution  library, 
and  to  wander  from  bookcase  to  bookcase,  and  take 
down  whatever  book  my  fingers  lighted  upon.  And 
read  I  did,  whether  I  understand  one  word  in  ten 
or  two  words  on  a  page.  The  words  themselves 
fascinated  me;  but  I  took  no  conscious  account  of 
what  I  read.  My  mind  must,  however,  have  been 
very  impressionable  at  that  period,  for  it  retained 
many  words  and  whole  sentences,  to  the  meaning  of 
which  I  had  not  the  faintest  clue;  and  afterward, 
when  I  began  to  talk  and  write,  these  words  and 
sentences  would  flash  out  quite  naturally,  so  that 
my  friends  wondered  at  the  richness  of  my  vocab 
ulary.  I  must  have  read  parts  of  many  books  (in 
those  early  days  I  think  I  never  read  any  one  book 
through)  and  a  great  deal  of  poetry  in  this  uncom 
prehending  way,  until  I  discovered  "Little  Lord 
Fauntleroy,"  which  was  the  first  book  of  any  conse 
quence  I  read  under  standingly. 

One  day  my  teacher  found  me  in  a  corner  of  the 
library  pouring  over  the  pages  of  "The  Scarlet 
Letter."  I  was  then  about  eight  years  old.  I 
remember  she  asked  me  if  I  liked  little  Pearl,  and 
explained  some  of  the  words  that  had  puzzled  me. 
Then  she  told  me  that  she  had  a  beautiful  story 
about  a  little  boy  which  she  was  sure  I  should  like 
better  than  "The  Scarlet  Letter."  The  name  of  the 
story  was  "Little  Lord  Fauntleroy,"  and  she 
promised  to  read  it  to  me  the  following  summer. 
But  we  did  not  begin  the  story  until  August;  the 
first  few  weeks  of  my  stay  at  the  seashore  were  so  full 
of  discoveries  and  excitement  that  I  forgot  the  very 
existence  of  books.  Then  my  teacher  went  to  visit 
some  friends  in  Boston,  leaving  me  for  a  short  time 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  107 

When  she  returned  almost  the  first  thing  we  did 
was  to  begin  the  story  of  "  Little  Lord  Fauntleroy." 
I  recall  distinctly  the  time  and  place  when  we  read 
the  first  chapters  of  the  fascinating  child's  story.  It 
was  a  warm  afternoon  in  August.  We  were  sitting 
together  in  a  hammock  which  swung  from  two  solemn 
pines  at  a  short  distance  from  the  house.  We  had 
hurried  through  the  dish-washing  after  luncheon,1, 
in  order  that  we  might  have  as  long  an  afternoon  as 
possible  for  the  story.  As  we  hastened  through  the 
long  grass  toward  the  hammock,  the  grasshoppers 
swarmed  about  us  and  fastened  themselves  on  our 
clothes,  and  I  remember  that  my  teacher  insisted 
upon  picking  them  all  off  before  we  sat  down,  which 
seemed  to  me  an  unnecessary  waste  of  time.  The 
hammock  was  covered  with  pine  needles,  for  it  had 
not  been  used  while  my  teacher  was  away.  The 
warm  sun  shone  on  the  pine  trees  and  drew  out  all 
their  fragrance.  The  air  was  balmy,  with  a  tang  of 
the  sea  in  it.  Before  w«e  began  the  story  Miss 
Sullivan  explained  to  me  the  things  that  she  knew 
I  should  not  understand,  and  as  we  read  on  she 
explained  the  unfamiliar  words.  At  first  there  were 
many  words  I  did  not  know,  and  the  reading  was 
constantly  interrupted ;  but  as  soon  as  I  thoroughly 
comprehended  the  situation,  I  became  too  eagerly 
absorbed  in  the  story  to  notice  mere  words,  and  I 
am  afraid  I  listened  impatiently  to  the  explanations 
that  Miss  Sullivan  felt  to  be  necessary.  When  her 
lingers  were  too  tired  to  spell  another  word,  I  had  for 
the  first  time  a  keen  sense  of  my  deprivations.  I 
took  the  book  in  my  hands  and  tried  to  feel 
the  letters  with  an  intensity  of  longing  that  I  can 
aever  forget, 


to8  2'riE   STORY   OF  MY   LIFE 

Afterward,  at  my  eager  request,  Mr.  Anagnos  had 
this  story  embossed,  and  I  read  it  again  and  again, 
until  I  almost  knew  it  by  heart ;  and  all  through  my 
childhood  "Little  Lord  Fauntleroy"  was  my  sweet 
and  gentle  companion,  I  have  given  these  details 
at  the  risk  of  being  tedious,  because  they  are  in  such 
vivid  contrast  with  my  vague,  mutable  and  confused 
memories  of  earlier  reading. 

From  "Little  Lord  Fauntleroy"  I  date  the  begin 
ning  of  my  true  interest  in  books.  During  the  next 
two  years  I  read  many  books  at  my  home  and  on  my 
visits  to  Boston.  I  cannot  remember  what  they  all 
were,  or  in  what  order  I  read  them ;  but  I  know  that 
among  them  were  "Greek  Heroes,"  La  Fontaine's 
"Fables/'  Hawthorne's  "Wonder  Book,"  "Bible 
Stories,"  Lamb's  "Tales  from  Shakespeare,"  "A 
Child's  History  of  England"  by  Dickens,  "The 
Arabian  Nights,"  "The  Swiss  Family  Robinson," 
"The  Pilgrim's  Progress,"  "Robinson  Crusoe,'1 
"Little  Women,"  and  "Heidi,"  a  beautiful  little 
story  which  I  afterward  read  in  German.  I  read  them 
in  the  intervals  between  study  and  play  with  an 
ever-deepening  sense  of  pleasure.  I  did  not  study  noi 
analyze  them — I  did  not  know  whether  they  were 
well  written  or  not ;  I  never  thought  about  style  or 
authorship.  They  laid  their  treasures  at  my  feet, 
and  I  accepted  them  as  we  accept  the  sunshine  and 
the  love  of  our  friends.  I  loved  "Little  Women" 
because  it  gave  me  a  sense  of  kinship  with  girls  and 
boys  who  could  see  and  hear.  Circumscribed  as  my 
life  was  in  so  many  ways,  I  had  to  look  between  the 
covers  of  books  for  news  of  the  world  that  lay 
outside  my  own. 

I   did   not    care    est>eciallv   for   "  The    Pilgrim's 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  109 

Progress,"  which  I  think  I  did  not  finish,  or  for  the 
"Fables."  I  read  La  Fontaine's  " Fables"  first  in  an 
English  translation,  and  enjoyed  them  only  after  a 
naif -hearted  fashion.     Later  I  read  the  book  again  in 
French,  and  I  found  that,  in  spite  of  the  vivid  word- 
pictures,  and  the  wonderful  mastery  of  language,  1 /. 
liked  it  no  better.     I  do  not  know  why  it  is,  but// 
stories  in  which  aninials  are  made  to  talk  and  act  liko' 
human  beings   have   never  appealed  to   me   very 
strongty.     The  ludicrous  caricatures  of  the  animals 
occupy  my  mind  to  the  exclusion  of  the  moral. 

Then,  again,  La  Fontaine  seldom,  if  ever,  appeals 
to  our  higher  moral  sense.  The  highest  chords  he 
strikes  are  those  of  reason  and  self-love.  Through 
all  the  fables  runs  the  thought  that  man's  morality 
springs  wholly  from  self-love,  and  that  if  that  self- 
love  is  directed  and  restrained  by  reason,  happiness 
must  follow.  Now,  so  far  as  I  can  judge,  self-love 
is  the  root  of  all  evil ;  but,  of  course,  I  may  be  wrong, 
for  La  Fontaine  had  greater  opportunities  of  observ 
ing  men  than  I  am  likely  ever  to  have.  I  do  not 
object  so  much  to  the  cynical  and  satirical  fables  as 
to  those  in  which  momentous  truths  are  taught  by 
monkeys  and  foxes. 

But  I  love  "  The  Jungle  Book"  and  "  Wild  Animals 
I  Have  Known."  I  feel  a  genuine  interest  in  the 
animals  themselves,  because  they  are  real  animals 
and  not  caricatures  of  men.  One  sympathizes  with 
their  loves  and  hatreds,  laughs  over  their  comedies,, 
and  weeps  over  their  tragedies.  And  if  they  point 
a  moral,  it  is  so  subtle  that  we  are  not  conscious 
of  it. 

My  mind  opened  naturally  and  joyously  to  a  con-* 
oeption  of  antiquity.  Greece,  ancient  Greece,  exejv 


i  io  THE   STORY  OF   MY   LIFE 

cised  a  mysterious  fascination  over  me.  In  my 
fancy  the  pagan  gods  and  goddesses  still  walked  on 
earth  and  talked  face  to  face  with  men,  and  in  my 
heart  I  secretly  built  shrines  to  those  I  loved  best. 
I  knew  and  loved  the  whole  tribe  of  nymphs  and 
heroes  and  demigods — no,  not  quite  all,  for  the 
cruelty  and  greed  of  Medea  and  Jason  were  too 
monstrous  to  be  forgiven,  and  I  used  to  wonder  why 
the  gods  permitted  them  to  do  wrong  and  then 
punished  them  for  their  wickedness.  And  the 
mystery  is  still  unsolved.  I  often  wonder  how 

God  can  dumbness  keep 

While  Sin  creeps  grinning  through  His  house  of  Time. 

It  was  the  Iliad  that  made  Greece  my  paradise. 
I  was  familiar  with  the  story  of  Troy  before  I  read 
it  in  the  original,  and  consequently  I  had  little 
difficulty  in  making  the  Greek  words  surrender  their 
treasures  after  I  had  passed  the  borderland  of 
grammar.  Great  poetry,  whether  written  in  Greek  or 
in  English,  needs  no  other  interpreter  than  a  respon- 

^sive  heart.  Would  that  the  host  of  those  who 
make  the  great  works  of  the  poets  odious  by  their 
analysis,  impositions  and  laborious  comments 

-  might  learn  this  simple  truth  !  It  is  not  necessary 
that  one  should  be  able  to  define  every  word  and  give 
it  its  principal  parts  and  its  grammatical  position  in 
the  sentence  in  order  to  understand  and  appre 
ciate  a  fine  poem.  I  know  my  learned  professors 
have  found  greater  riches  in  the  Iliad  than  1 
shall  ever  find;  but  I  am  not  avaricious.  I  am 
content  that  others  should  be  wiser  than  I.  But 
Yvith  all  their  wide  and  comprehensive  knowledge, 
they  cannot  measure  their  enjoyment  of  that  splen- 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  in 

did  epic,  nor  can  I.  When  I  read  the  finest  pass 
ages  of  the  Iliad,  I  am  conscious  of  a  soul-sense 
that  lifts  me  above  the  narrow,  cramping  circum 
stances  of  my  life.  My  physical  limitations  are 
forgotten — my  world  lies  upward,  the  length  and 
the  breadth  and  the  sweep  of  the  heavens  are 
mine ! 

My  admiration  for  the  ^Eneid  is  not  so  great, 
but  it  is  none  the  less  real.  I  read  it  as  much  as 
possible  without  the  help  of  notes  or  dictionary,  and 
I  always  like  to  translate  the  episodes  that  pleased 
me  especially.  The  word-painting  of  Virgil  is  won 
derful  sometimes;  but  his  gods  and  men  move 
through  the  scenes  of  passion  and  strife  and  pity 
and  love  like  the  graceful  figures  in  an  Elizabethan 
mask,  whereas  in  the  Iliad  they  give  three  leaps 
and  go  on  singing.  Virgil  is  serene  and  lovely 
like  a  marble  Apollo  in  the  moonlight;  Homer  is  a 
beautiful,  animated  youth  in  the  full  sunlight  with 
the  wind  in  his  hair. 

How  easy  it  is  to  fly  on  paper  wings !  From 
"Greek  Heroes"  to  the  Iliad  was  no  day's  journey, 
nor  was  it  altogether  pleasant.  One  could  have 
traveled  round  the  world  many  times  while  I  trudged 
my  weary  way  through  the  labyrinthine  mazes  of 
grammars  and  dictionaries,  or  fell  into  those  dreadful 
pitfalls  called  examinations,  set  by  schools  and 
colleges  for  the  confusion  of  those  who  seek  after 
knowledge.  I  suppose  this  sort  of  Pilgrim's  Progress 
was  justified  by  the  end ;  but  it  seemed  interminable 
to  me,  in  spite  of  the  pleasant  surprises  that  met  me 
now  and  then  at  a  turn  in  the  road. 

I  began  to  read  the  Bible  long  before  I  could  under 
stand  it.  Now  it  seems  strange  to  me  that  there 


ci2  THE   STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

should  have  been  a  time  when  my  spirit  was  deaf 
to  its  wondrous  harmonies ;  but  I  remember  well  a 
rainy  Sunday  morning  when,  having  nothing  else  to 
do,  I  begged  my  cousin  to  read  me  a  story  out  of  the 
Bible.  Although  she  did  not  think  I  should  under 
stand,  she  began  to  spell  into  my  hand  the  story 
of  Joseph  and  his  brothers.  Somehow  it  failed  to 
interest  me.  The  unusual  language  and  repetition' 
made  the  story  seem  unreal  and  far  away  in  the 
land  of  Canaan,  and  I  fell  asleep  and  wandered 
off  to  the  land  of  Nod,  before  the  brothers  came  with 
the  coat  of  many  colours  unto  the  tent  of  Jacob  and 
told  their  wicked  lie  !  I  cannot  understand  why  the 
stories  of  the  Greeks  should  have  been  so  full  of 
charm  for  me,  and  those  of  the  Bible  so  devoid  of 
interest,  unless  it  was  that  I  had  made  the  acquaint 
ance  of  several  Greeks  in  Boston  and  been  inspired 
by  their  enthusiasm  for  the  stories  of  their  cquntry ; 
whereas  I  had  not  met  a  single  Hebrew  or  Egyptian, 
and  therefore  concluded  that  they  were  nothing 
more  than  barbarians,  and  the  stories  about 
them  were  probably  all  made  up,  which  hypothesis 
explained  the  repetitions  and  the  queer  names. 
Curiously  enough,  it  never  occurred  to  me  to  call 
Greek  patronymics  "  queer. " 

But  how  shall  I  speak  of  the  glories  I  have  since 
discovered  in  the  Bible  ?  For  years  I  have  read  it 
with  an  ever-broadening  sense  of  joy  and  inspiration ; 
and  I  love  it  as  I  love  no  other  book.  Still  there  is 
much  in  the  Bible  against  which  every  instinct  of 
my  being  rebels,  so  much  that  I  regret  the  necessity 
which  has  compelled  me  to  read  it  through  from 
beginning  to  end.  I  do  not  think  that  the  knowledge 
which  I  have  gained  of  its  history  and  sources  com- 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  113 

pensates  me  for  the  unpleasant  details  it  has  forced 
upon  my  attention.  For  my  part,  I  wish,  with  Mr. 
Ho  wells,  that  the  literature  of  the  past  might  be 
purged  of  all  that  is  ugly  and  barbarous  in  it, 
although  I  should  object  as  much  as  any  one  to 
having  these  great  works  weakened  or  falsified. 

There  is  something  impressive,  awful,  in  the  sim 
plicity  and  terrible  directness  of  the  book  of  Esther. 
Could  there  be  anything  more  dramatic  than  the 
scene  in  which  Esther  stands  before  her  wicked  lord  ? 
She  knows  her  life  is  in  his  hands ;  there  is  no  one  to 
protect  her  from  his  wrath.  Yet,  conquering  her 
woman's  fear,  she  approaches  him,  animated  by  the 
noblest  patriotism,  having  but  one  thought:  "If  I 
perish,  I  perish ;  but  if  I  live,  my  people  shall  live. " 

The  story  of  Ruth,  too — how  Oriental  it  is  !  Yet 
how  different  is  the  life  of  these  simple  country  folks 
from  that  of  the  Persian  capital !  Ruth  is  so  loyal 
and  gentle-hearted,  we  cannot  help  loving  her,  as 
she  stands  with  the  reapers  amid  the  waving  corn. 
Her  beautiful,  unselfish  spirit  shines  out  like  a  bright 
star  in  the  night  of  a  dark  and  cruel  age.  Love  like 
Ruth's,  love  which  can  rise  above  conflicting  creeds 
and  deep-seated  racial  prejudices,  is  hard  to  find  in 
all  the  world. 

The  Bible  gives  me  a  deep,  comforting  sense  that 
"  things  seen  are  temporal,  and  things  unseen  are 
eternal." 

I  do  not  remember  a  time  since  I  have  been  capabla 
of  loving  books  that  I  have  not  loved  Shakespeare. 
I  cannot  tell  exactly  when  I  began  Lamb's  "Tales 
from  Shakespeare ' ' ;  but  I  know  that  I  read  them 
at  first  with  a  child's  understanding  and  a  child's 
wonber.  "Macbeth"  seems  to  have  impressed  me. 


ii4  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

most.  One  reading  was  sufficient  to  stamp  every 
detail  of  the  story  upon  my  memory  forever.  For  a 
long  time  the  ghosts  and  witches  pursued  me  ever 
into  Dreamland.  I  could  see,  absolutely  see,  the 
dagger  and  Lady  Macbeth's  little  white  hand — the 
dreadful  stain  was  as  real  to  me  as  to  the  grief: 
stricken  queen. 

I  read  "King  Lear"  soon  after  "Macbeth,"  and  1 
shall  never  forget  the  feeling  of  horror  when  I  came 
to  the  scene  in  which  Gloster's  eyes  are  put  out, 
Anger  seized  me,  my  fingers  refused  to  move,  I  sat 
rigid  for  one  long  moment,  the  blood  throbbing  w 
my  temples,  and  all  the  hatred  that  a  child  can  feel 
concentrated  in  my  heart. 

I  must  have  made  the  acquaintance  of  Shylock 
and  Satan  about  the  same  time,  for  the  two  charac 
ters  were  long  associated  in  my  mind.  I  remember 
that  I  was  sorry  for  them.  I  felt  vaguely  that  they 
could  not  be  good  even  if  they  wished  to,  because  no 
one  seemed  willing  to  help  them  or  to  give  them  a 
fair  chance.  Even  now  I  cannot  find  it  in  my  heart 
to  condemn  them  utterly.  There  are  moments 
when  I  feel  that  the  Shylocks,  the  Judases,  and  even 
the  Devil,  are  broken  spokes  in  the  great  wheel  of 
good  which  shall  in  due  time  be  made  whole. 

It  seems  strange  that  my  first  reading  of  Shake 
speare  should  have  left  me  so  many  unpleasant 
memories.  The  bright,  gentle,  fanciful  plays — the 
ones  I  like -best  now — appear  not  to  have  impressed 
me  at  first,  perhaps  because  they  reflected  the 
habitual  sunshine  and  gaiety  of  a  child's  life.  But 
"there  is  nothing  more  capricious  than  the  memory 
of  a  child:  what  it  will  hold,  and  what  it  will  lose." 

I  have  since  read  Shakespeare's  plays  many  times 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  115 

and  know  parts  of  them  by  heart,  but  I  cannot  tell 
which  of  them  I  like  best.  My  delight  in  them  is  as 
varied  as  my  moods.  The  little  songs  and  the  sonnets 
have  a  meaning  for  me  as  fresh  and  wonderful  as  the 
dramas.  But,  with  all  my  love  for  Shakespeare,  it  ^ 
is  often  weary  work  to  read  all  the  meanings  into! 
his  lines  which  critics  and  commentators  have  given  " 
them.  I  used  to  try  to  remember  their  interpreta 
tions,  but  they  discouraged  and  vexed  me ;  so  I  made 
a  secret  compact  with  myself  not  to  try  any  more. 
This  compact  I  have  only  just  broken  in  my  study 
of  Shakespeare  under  Professor  Kittredge.  I  know 
there  are  many  things  in  Shakespeare,  and  in  the 
world,  that  I  do  not  understand ;  and  I  am  glad  to 
see  veil  after  veil  lift  gradually,  revealing  new  realms 
gl  thought  and  beauty. 

^JNext  tojBoetry  I  love  history.  JMiave  read  every 
his  toncal^ork  tEat  I  have  been  able  to  lay  my  hands 
on,  from  a  catalogue  of  dry  facts  and  dryer  dates 
to  Green's  impartial,  picturesque  "  History  of  the 
English  People";  from  Freeman's  " History  of 
Europe"  to  Emerton's  "Middle  Ages."  The  first 
book  that  gave  me  any  real  sense  of  the  value  of 
history  was  Swinton's  "World's  History,"  which  I 
received  on  my  thirteenth  birthday.  Though  I 
believe  it  is  no  longer  considered  valid,  yet  I  have 
kept  it  ever  since  as  one  of  my  treasures.  From  it 
I  learned  how  the  races  of  men  spread  from  land  to 
land  and  built  great  cities,  how  a  few  great  rulers, 
earthly  Titans,  put  everything  under  their  feet,  and 
with  a  decisive  word  opened  the  gates  of  happiness 
for  millions  and  closed  them  upon  millions  more; 
how  different  nations  pioneered  in  art  and  knowledge 
and  broke  ground  for  the  mightier  growths  of  corning 


n6  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

ages;  how  civilization  underwent,  as  it  were,  the 
holocaust  of  a  degenerate  age,  and  rose  again,  like 

the  Phoenix,  among  the  nobler  sons  of  the  North; 
and  how  by  liberty,  tolerance  and  education  the 
great  and  the  wise  have  opened  the  way  for  the 
i  salvation  of  the  whole  world. 

In  my  college  reading  I  have  become  somewhat 
familiar  with  French  and  German  literature.  The 
German  puts  strength  before  beauty,  and  truth 
before  convention,  both  in  life  and  in  literature. 
There  is  a  vehement,  sledge-hammer  vigour  about 
everything  that  he  does.  When  he  speaks,  it  is  not 
to  impress  others,  but  because  his  heart  would  burst 
if  he  did  not  find  an  outlet  for  the  thoughts  that  burn 
.in  his  soul. 

Then,  too,  there  is  in  German  literature  a  fine 
reserve  which  I  like;  but  its  chief  glory  is  the 
recognition  I  find  in  it  of  the  redeeming  potency  of 
woman's  self-sacrificing  love.  This  thought  per 
vades  all  German  literature  and  is  mystically 
expressed  in  Goethe's  "Faust": 

All  things  transitory 

But  as  symbols  are  sent. 
Earth's  insufficiency 

Here  grows  to  event. 
The  indescribable 
Here  it  is  done. 
The  Woman  Soul  leads  us  upward  and  on  f 

Of  all  the  French  writers  that  I  have  read,  I  like 
Moliere  and  Racine  best.  There  are  fine  things  in 
Balzac  and  passages  in  Merimee  which  strike  one 
like  a  keen  blast  of  sea  air.  Alfred  de  Musset  is 
impossible!  I  admire  Victor  Hugo — I  appreciate 
his  genius,  his  brilliancy,  his  romanticism ;  though  he 
is  not  one  of  my  literary  passions.  But  Hugo  and 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

Goethe  and  Schiller  and  all  great  poets  of  all 
great  nations  are  interpreters  of  eternal  things, 
and  my  spirit  reverently  follows  them  into  the 
regions  where  Beauty  and  Truth  and  Goodness 
are  one. 

I  am  afraid  I  have  written  too  much  about  my 
book-friends,  and  yet  I  have  mentioned  only  the 
authors  I  love  most;  and  from  this  fact  one  might 
easily  suppose  that  my  circle  of  friends  was  very 
limited  and  undemocratic,  which  would  be  a  very 
wrong  impression.  I  like  many  writers  for  many 
reasons — Carlyle  for  his  ruggedness  and  scorn  of 
shams ;  Wordsworth,  who  teaches  the  oneness  of  man 
and  nature ;  I  find  an  exquisite  pleasure  in  the  oddities 
and  surprises  of  Hood,  in  Herrick's  quaintness  and 
the  palpable  scent  of  lily  and  rose  in  his  verses;  I 
like  Whittier  for  his  enthusiasms  and  moral  rectitude. 
I  knew  him,  and  the  gentle  remembrance  of  our 
friendship  doubles  the  pleasure  I  have  in  reading 
his  poems.  I  love  Mark  Twain — who  does  not? 
The  gods,  too,  loved  him  and  put  into  his  heart  all 
manner  of  wisdom;  then,  fearing  lest  he  should 
become  a  pessimist,  they  spanned  his  mind  with  a 
rainbow  of  love  and  faith.  I  like  Scott  for  14* 
freshness,  dash  and  large  honesty.  I  love  all 
writers  whose  minds,  like  Lowell's,  bubble  up  in 
the  sunshine  of  optimism — fountains  of  joy  and 
:  good  will,  with  occasionally  a  splash  of  anger  and 
here  and  there  a  healing  spray  of  sympathy  and 
pity. 

In  a  word,  literature  is  my  Utopia.  Here  I  am  not 
disfranchised.  No  barrier  of  the  senses  shuts  me 
out  from  the  sweet,  gracious  discourse  of  my  book- 
friendSc  They  talk  to  me  without  embarrassment  of 


uS  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

awkwardness.  The  things  I  have  learned  and  the 
things  I  have  been  taught  seem  of  ridiculously  little 
importance  compared  with  their  "  large  loves  and 
heavenly  charities." 


•x 


CHAPTER  XXII 

I  TRUST  that  my  readers  have  not  concluded  from, 
the  preceding  chapter  on  books  that  reading  is  my 
only  pleasure;  my  pleasures  and  amusements  are 
many  and  varied. 

More  than  once  in  the  course  of  my  story  I  have 
referred  to  my  love  of  the  country  and  out-of-door 
sports.     When  I  was  quite  a  little  girl,  I  learned  to , 
row  and  swim,  and  during  the  summer,  when  I  am  I 
at  Wrentham,  Massachusetts,  I  almost  live  .in  my  I 
boat.     Nothing  gives  me  greater  pleasure  than  to 
take  my  friends  out  rowing  when  they  visit  me.     Of 
course,  I  cannot  guide  the  boat  very  well.     Some  one 
usually  sits  in  the  stern  and  manages  the  rudder 
while   I   row.     Sometimes,   however,    I   go   rowing 
without  the  rudder.     It  is  fun  to  try  to  steer  by  the 
scent  of  watergrasses  and  lilies,  and  of  bushes  that 
grow  on  the  shore.     I  use  oars  with  leather  bands, 
which  keep  them  in  position  in  the  oarlocks,  and  I 
know  by  the  resistance  of  the  water  when  the  oars 
are  evenly  poised.     In  the  same  manner  I  can  also^ 
tell  when  I  am  pulling  against  the  current.     I  like  to! 
contend    with    wind    and    wave.     What    is    more^ 
exhilarating  than  to  make  your  staunch  little  boat, 
obedient   to  your  will  and  muscle,   go   skimming 
lightly  over  glistening,  tilting  waves,  and  to  feel  the 
steady,  imperious  surge  of  the  water ! 

I  also  enjoy  canoeing,  and  I  suppose  you  will  smile 
when  I  say  that  I  especially  like  it  on  moonlight 

119 


120  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

nights.  I  cannot,  it  is  true,  see  the  moon  climb  up 
the  sky  behind  the  pines  and  steal  softly  across  the 
heavens,  making  a  shining  path  for  us  to  follow ;  but 
J  know  she  is  there,  and  as  I  lie  back  among  the 
pillows  and  put  my  hand  in  the  water,  I  fancy  that 
I  feel  the  shimmer  of  her  garments  as  she  passes. 
Sometimes  a  daring  little  fish  slips  between  my 
fingers,  and  often  a  pond-lily  presses  shyly  against 
my  hand.  Frequently,  as  we  emerge  from  the 
shelter  of  a  cove  or  inlet,  I  am  suddenly  conscious 
of  the  spaciousness  of  the  air  about  me.  A  lumin 
ous  warmth  seems  to  enfold  me.  Whether  it  comes 
from  the  trees  which  have  been  heated  by  the  sun, 
or  from  the  water,  I  can  never  discover.  I  have  had 
the  same  strange  sensation  even  in  the  heart  of  the 
city.  I  ha\re  felt  it  on  cold,  stormy  days  and  at 
night.  It  is  like  the  kiss  of  warm  lips  on  my  face. 

My  favourite  amusement  is  sailing.  In  the  sum 
mer  of  1901  I  visited  Nova  Scotia,  and  had  oppor 
tunities  such  as  I  had  not  enjoyed  before  to  make 
the  acquaintance  of  the  ocean.  After  spending  a 
few  days  in  Evangeline's  country,  about  which 
Longfellow's  beautiful  poem  has  woven  a  spell  ot 
enchantment,  Miss  Sullivan  and  I  went  to  Halifax, 
where  we  remained  the  greater  part  of  the  summer. 
The  harbour  was  our  joy,  our  paradise.  What 
•glorious  sails  we  had  to  Bedford  Basin,  to  McNabb's 
Island,  to  York  Redoubt,  and  to  the  Northwest 
Arm  !  And  at  night  what  soothing,  wondrous  hours 
we  spent  in  the  shadow  of  the  great,  silent  men-of- 
war.  Oh,  it  was  all  so  interesting,  so  beautiful! 
The  memory  of  it  is  a  joy  forever. 

One  day  we  had  a  thrilling  experience.  There 
was  a  regatta  in  the  Northwest  Arm,  in  whicfr 


Photograph  by  Whitman   Studi* 

MISS   KELLER   AND    "PHIZ" 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  121 

«he  boats  from  the  different  warships  were  engaged. 
We  went  in  a  sail -boat  along  with  many  others  to 
watch  the  races.  Hundreds  of  little  sail-boats  swung 
to  and  fro  close  by,  and  the  sea  was  calm.  When  the 
races  were  over,  and  we  turned  our  faces  homeward, 
one  of  the  party  noticed  a  black  cloud  drifting  in 
from  the  sea,  which  grew  and  spread  and  thickened 
until  it  covered  the  whole  sky.  The  wind  rose,  and 
the  waves  chopped  angrily  at  unseen  barriers.  Our 
little  boat  confronted  the  gale  fearlessly;  with  sails 
spread  and  ropes  taut,  she  seemed  to  sit  upon  the 
wind.  Now  she  swirled  in  the  billows,  now  she 
sprang  upward  on  a  gigantic  wave,  only  to  be  driven 
down  with  angry  howl  and  hiss.  Down  came  the 
mainsail.  Tacking  and  jibbing,  we  wrestled  with 
opposing  winds  that  drove  us  from  side  to  side  with 
impetuous  fury.  Our  hearts  beat  fast,  and  our 
hands  trembled  with  excitement,  not  fear;  for  we 
had  the  hearts  of  vikings,  and  we  knew  that  our 
skipper  was  master  of  the  situation.  He  had  steered 
through  many  a  storm  with  firm  hand  and  sea -wise 
*ye.  As  they  passed  us,  the  large  craft  and  the 
gunboats  in  the  harbour  saluted  and  the  seamen 
shouted  applause  for  the  master  of  the  only  little 
sail-boat  that  ventured  out  into  the  storm.  At  last, 
£old,  hungry  and  weary,  we  reached  our  pier. 

Last  summer  I  spent  in  one  of  the  loveliest  nooks 
of  one  of  the  most  charming  villages  in  New  England. 
Wrentham,  Massachusetts,  is  associated  with  nearly 
all  of  my  joys  and  sorrows.  For  many  years  RecJ 
Farm,  by  King  Philip's  Pond,  the  home  of  Mr. 
J.  E.  Chamberlin  and  his  family,  was  my  home. 
I  remember  with  deepest  gratitude  the  kindness  of 
these  dear  friends  and  the  happy  days  I  spent  with 


122  THE   STORY  OP  MY  LIFE 

them.  The  sweet  companionship  of  their  children 
meant  much  to  me.  I  joined  in  all  their  sports 
and  rambles  through  the  woods  and  frolics  in  the 
water.  The  prattle  of  the  little  ones  and  their 
pleasure  in  the  stories  I  told  them  of  elf  and 
gnome,  of  hero  and  wily  bear,  are  pleasant  things  to 
remember.  Mr.  Chamberlin  initiated  me  into  the 
mysteries  of  tree  and  wild-flower,  until  with  the 
ittle  ear  of  love  I  heard  the  flow  of  sap  in  the 
oak,  and  saw  the  sun  glint  from  leaf  to  leaf.  Thus 
it  is  that 

Even  as  the  roots,  shut  in  the  darksome  earth, 
Share  in  the  tree-top's  joyance,  and  conceive 
Of  sunshine  and  wide  air  and  winged  things, 
J3y  sympathy  of  nature,  so  do  I 

liave  evidence  of  things  unseen. 

It  seems  to  me  that  there  is  in  each  of  us  a  capacity 
to  comprehend  the  impressions  and  emotions  which 
have  been  experienced  by  mankind  from  the  begin 
ning.  Each  individual  has  a  subconscious  memory 
of  the  green  earth  and  murmuring  waters,  and  blind 
ness  and  deafness  cannot  rob  him  of  this  gift  from 
past  generations.  This  inherited  capacity  is  a  sort 
of  sixth  sense — a  soul-sense  which  sees,  hears,  feels» 
all  in  one. 

I  have  many  t£ge  friends  in  Wrentham.  One  of 
them,  a  splendid  oak,  is  the  special  pride  of  my  heart. 
I  take  all  my  other  friends  to  see  this  king-tree.  It 
stands  on  a  bluff  overlooking  King  Philip's  Pond, 
and  those  who  are  wise  in  tree  lore  say  it  must  have 
stood  there  eight  hundred  or  a  thousand  years. 
There  is  a  tradition  that  [under  this  tree  King 
Philip,  the  heroic  Indian  chief,  gazed  his  last  on 
earth  and  sky. 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE         ?  123 

I  had  another  tree  friend,  gentle  and  more 
approachable  than  the  great  oak  —  a  linden  that 
grew  in  the  dooryard  at  Red  Farm.  One  afternoon, 
during  a  terrible  thunderstorm,  I  felt  a  tremendous 
crash  against  the  side  of  the  house  and  knew,  even 
before  they  told  me,  that  the  linden  had  fallen, 
We  went  out  to  see  the  hero  that  had  withstood 
so  many  tempests,  and  it  wrung  my  heart  to  (see 
him  prostrate  who  had  mightily  striven  and  was 
now  mightily  fallen. 

But  I  must  not  forget  that  I  was  going  to  write 
about  last  summer  in  particular.  As  soon  as  my 
examinations  were  over,  Miss  Sullivan  and  I  hastened 
to  this  green  nook,  where  we  have  a  little  cottage  on 
one  of  the  three  lakes  for  which  Wrentham  is  famous. 
Here  the  long,  sunny  days  were  mine,  and  all 
thoughts  of  work  and  college  and  the  noisy  city 
were  thrust  into  the  background.  In  Wrentham  we 
caught  echoes  of  what  was  happening  in  the  world 
—  war,  alliance,  social  conflict.  We  heard  of  the 
cruel,  unnecessary  fighting  in  the  far-away  Pacific, 
and  learned  of  the  struggles  going  on  between  capi 
tal  and  labour.  We  knew  that  beyond  the  border 
of  our  Eden  men  were  making  history  by  the  sweat 
of  their  brows  when  they  might  better  make  a 
holiday.  But  we  little  heeded  these  things.  These 
things  would  pass  away;  here  were  lakes  and  woods> 
and  broad  daisy-starred  fields  and  sweet-breathed 
meadows,  and  they  shall  endure  forever. 

People  who  think  that  all  sensations  reach  us 
through  the  eye  and  the  ear  have  expressed  surprise 
that  I  should  notice  any  difference,  except  possibly 
the  absence  of  pavements,  between  walking  in  city 
streets  and  in  country  roads.  They  forget  that  my 


I24  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

whole  body  is  alive  to  the  conditions  about  me.  The 
rumble  and  roar  of  the  city  smite  the  nerves  of  my 
face,  and  I  feel  the  ceaseless  tramp  of  an  unseen 
multitude,  and  the  dissonant  tumult  frets  my  spirit. 
The  grinding  of  heavy  wagons  on  hard  pavements 
and  the  monotonous  clangour  of  machinery  are  all 
the  more  torturing  to  the  nerves  if  one's  attention  is 
not  diverted  by  the  panorama  that  is  always  present 
in  the  noisy  streets  to  people  who  can  see. 

In  the  country  one  sees  only  Nature's  fair  works, 
and  one's  soul  is  not  saddened  by  the  cruel  struggle 
for  mere  existence  that  goes  on  in  the  crowded  city. 
Several  times  I  have  visited  the  narrow,  dirty  streets 
where  the  poor  live,  and  I  grow  hot  and  indignant  to 
think  that  good  people  should  be  content  to  live  in 
fine  houses  and  become  strong  and  beautiful,  while 
others  are  condemned  to  live  in  hideous,  sunless 
tenements  and  grow  ugly,  withered  and  cringing. 
The  children  who  crowd  these  grimy  alleys,  half-clad 
and  underfed,  shrink  away  from  your  outstretched 
hand  as  if  from  a  blow.  Dear  little  creatures,  they 
crouch  in  my  heart  and  haunt  me  with  a  constant 
sense  of  pain.  There  are  men  and  women,  too,  all 
gnarled  and  bent  out  of  shape.  I  have  felt  their 
hard,  rough  hands  and  realized  what  an  endless 
struggle  their  existence  must  be — no  more  than  a 
series  of  scrimmages,  thwarted  attempts  to  do  some 
thing.  Their  life  seems  an  immense  disparity 
between  effort  and  opportunity.  The  sun  and  the 
air  are  God's  free  gifts  to  all,  we  say;  but  are  they  so? 
In  yonder  city's  dingy  alleys  the  sun  shines  not,  and 
the  air  is  foul.  Oh,  man,  how  dost  thou  forget  and 
obstruct  thy  brother  man,  and  say,  "Give  us  this 
day  our  daily  bread,"  when  he  has  none!  Oh, 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  UFE  125 

would  that  men  would  leave  the  city,  its  sple'ibour 
and  its  tumult  and  its  gold,  and  return  to  wood  and 
field  and  simple,  honest  living !  Then  would  their 
children  grow  stately  as  noble  trees,  and  their 
thoughts  sweet  and  pure  as  wayside  flowers.  It  is 
impossible  not  to  think  of  all  this  when  I  return  to 
the  country  after  a  year  of  work  in  town. 

What  a  joy  it  is  to  feel  the  soft,  springy  earth 
under  my  feet  once  more,  to  follow  grassy  roads 
that  lead  to  ferny  brooks  where  I  can  bathe  my 
fingers  in  a  cataract  of  rippling  notes,  or  to  clamber 
over  a  stone  wall  into  green  fields  that  tumble 
and  roll  and  climb  in  riotous  gladness  ! 

Next  to  a  leisurely  walk  I  enjoy  a  ''spin"  on  my 
tandem  bicycle.  It  is  splendid  to  feel  the  wind 
blowing  in  my  face  and  the  springy  motion  of  my 
iron  steed.  The  rapid  rush  through  the  air  gives 
me  a  delicious  sense  of  strength  and  buoyancy,  and 
the  exercise  makes  my  pulses  dance  and  my  heart 
sing. 

Whenever  it  is  possible,  my  dog  accompanies  me 
on  a  walk  or  ride  or  sail.  I  have  had  many  dog 
friends — huge  mastiffs,  soft-eyed  spaniels,  wood- 
wise  setters  and  honest,  homely  bull  terriers.  At 
present  the  lord  of  my  affections  is  one  of  these  bull 
terriers.  He  has  a  long  pedigree,  a  crooked  tail  and 
the  drollest  "phiz"  in  dogdom.  My  dog  friends 
seem  to  understand  my  limitations,  and  always 
keep  close  beside  me  when  I  am  alone.  I  love 
their  affectionate  ways  and  the  eloquent  wag  of 
their  tails. 

When  a  rainy  day  keeps  me  indoors,  I  amuse 
myself  after  the  manner  of  other  girls.  I  like  to 
knit  and  crochet ;  I  read  in  the  happy-go-lucky 


7i26  THE  STORY1DP  MY  LIFE 

J  love,  here  and  there  a  line;  or  perhaps  I  play  a 
game  or  two  of  checkers  or  chess  with  a  friend.  I 
have  a  special  board  on  which  I  play  these  games. 
The  squares  are  cut  out,  so  that  the  men  stand  in 
them  firmly.  The  black  checkers  are  flat  and  the 
white  ones  curved  on  top.  Each  checker  has  a  hole 
in  the  middle  in  which  a  brass  knob  can  be  placed 
to  distinguish  the  king  from  the  commons.  The 
chessmen  are  of  two  sizes,  the  white  larger  than  the 
black,  so  that  I  have  no  trouble  in  following  my 
opponent's  manoeuvers  by  moving  my  hands  lightly 
over  the  board  after  a  play.  The  jar  made  by 
shifting  the  men  from  one  hole  to  another  tells  me 
when  it  is  my  turn. 

If  I  happen  to  be  all  alone  and  in  an  idle  mood,  I 
play  a  game  of  solitaire,  of  which  I  am  very  fond. 
I  use  playing  cards  marked  in  the  upper  right-hand 
corner  with  braille  symbols  which  indicate  the  value 
of  the  card. 

It  there  are  children  around,  nothing  pleases  me 
so  much  as  to  frolic  with  them.  I  find  even  the 
smallest  child  excellent  company,  and  I  am  glad  to 
say  that  children  usually  like  me.  They  lead  me 
about  and  show  me  the  things  they  are  interested  in. 
Of  course  the  little  ones  cannot  spell  on  their  fingers ; 
'but  I  manage  to  read  their  lips.  If  I  do  not  succeed 
they  resort  to  dumb  show.  Sometimes  I  make  a 
mistake  and  do  the  wrong  thing.  A  burst  of  childish 
laughter  greets  my  blunder,  and  the  pantomime 
begins  all  over  again.  I  often  tell  them  stories  or 
teach  them  a  game,  and  the  winged  hours  depart 
and  leave  us  good  and  happy. 

Museums  and  art  stores  are  also  sources  of  pleasure 
and  inspiration.  Doubtles*  *'t  will  seem  strange  to 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  127 

many  that  the  hand  unaided  by  sight  can  feel  action, 
sentiment,  beauty  in  the  cold  marble ;  and  yet  it  i 
true  that  I  derive  genuine  pleasure  from  touching 
great  works  of  art.  As  my  finger  tips  trace  line  and 
curve,  they  discover  the  thought  and  emotion  which 
the  artist  has  portrayed.  I  can  feel  in  the  faces  of 
gods  and  heroes  hate,  courage  and  love,  just  as  I 
can  detect  them  in  living  faces  I  am  permitted  to 
touch.  I  feel  in  Diana's  posture  the  grace  and  free 
dom  of  the  forest  and  the  spirit  that  tames  the 
mountain  lion  and  subdues  the  fiercest  passions. 
My  soul  delights  in  the  repose  and  gracious  curves 
of  the  Venus;  and  in  Barr6's  bronzes  the  secrets  of 
the  jungle  are  revealed  to  me. 

A  medallion  of  Homer  hangs  on  the  wall  of  m} 
study,  conveniently  low,  so  that  I  can  easily  reach 
it  and  touch  the  beautiful,  sad  face  with  loving 
reverence.  How  well  I  know  each  line  in  that 
majestic  brow — tracks  of  life  and  bitter  evidences 
of  struggle  and  sorrow;  those  sightless  eyes  seeking, 
even  in  the  cold  plaster,  for  the  light  and  the  blue 
skies  of  his  beloved  Hellas,  but  seeking  in  vain; 
that  beautiful  mouth,  firm  and  true  and  tender. 
It  is  the  face  of  a  poet,  and  of  a  man  acquainted 
with  sorrow.  Ah,  how  well  I  understand  his 
deprivation — the  perpetual  night  in  which  he 
dwelt— 

O  dark,  dark,  dark,  amid  the  blaze  of  noon, 
Irrecoverably  dark,  total  eclipse 
Without  all  hope  of  day  ! 

In  imagination  I  can  hear  Homer  singing,  as  with 
unsteady,  hesitating  steps  he  gropes  his  way  from 
camp  to  camp — singing  of  life,  of  love,  of  war,  of  the 
fplendid  achievements  of  a  noble  race.  It  was  a 


128  THE  STORY   OF   MY   LIFE 

wonderful,  glorious  song,  and  it  won  the  blind  poet 
an  immortal  crown,  the  admiration  of  all  ages. 

I  sometimes  wonder  if  the  hand  is  not  more 
sensitive  to  the  beauties  of  sculpture  than  the 
eye.  I  should  think  the  wonderful  rhythmical 
flow  of  lines  and  curves  could  be  more  subtly  felt 
than  seen.  Be  this  as  it  may,  I  know  that  I  can 
feel  the  heart-throbs  of  the  ancient  Greeks  in 
their  marble  gods  and  goddesses. 

Another  pleasure,  which  comes  more  rarely  than 
the  others,  is  going  to  the  theatre.  I  enjoy  having 
a  play  described  to  me  while  *t  is  being  acted  on  the 
stage  far  more  than  reading  it,  because  then  it  seems 
as  if  I  were  living  in  the  midst  of  stirring  events.  It 
has  been  my  privilege  to  meet  a  few  great  actors  and 
actresses  who  have  the  power  of  so  bewitching  you 
that  you  forget  time  and  place  and  live  again  in  the 
romantic  past.  I  have  been  permitted  to  touch  the 
face  and  costume  of  Miss  Ellen  Terry  as  she  imper 
sonated  our  ideal  of  a  queen ;  and  there  was  about  her 
that  divinity  that  hedges  sublimes  t  woe.  Beside  her 
stood  Sir  Henry  Irving,  wearing  the  symbols  of 
kingship;  and  there  was  majesty  of  intellect  in  his 
every  gesture  and  attitude  and  the  royalty  that 
subdues  and  overcomes  in  every  line  of  his  sensitive 
face.  In  the  king's  face,  which  he  wore  as  a  mask, ' 
there  was  a  remoteness  and  inaccessibility  of  grief 
which  I  shall  never  forget. 

I  also  know  Mr.  Jefferson.  I  am  proud  to  count 
him  among  my  friends.  I  go  to  see  him  whenever  I 
happen  to  be  where  he  is  acting.  The  first  time  I 
saw  him  act  was  while  at  school  in  New  York.  He 
played  "Rip  Van  Winkle,"  I  had  often  read  the 
story,  but  I  had  never  felt  the  charm  of  Rip's 


Copyright,   IQ02,  by  C.  M.   Gilbert 

MISS    KELLER,    MISS    SULLIVAN,    AND 
MR.    JOSEPH    JEFFERSON 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  129 

slow,  quaint,  kind  ways  as  I  did  in  the  play.  Mr. 
Jefferson's  beautiful,  pathetic  representation  quite 
carried  me  away  with  delight.  I  have  a  picture  of 
old  Rip  in  my  fingers  which  they  will  never  lose. 
After  the  play  Miss  Sullivan  took  me  to  see  him 
behind  the  scenes,  and  I  felt  of  his  curious  garb  and 
his  flowing  hair  and  beard.  Mr.  Jefferson  let  me 
touch  his  face  so  that  I  could  imagine  how  he  looked 
on  waking  from  that  strange  sleep  of  twenty  years, 
and  he  showed  me  how  poor  old  Rip  staggered  to 
his  feet. 

I  have  also  seen  him  in  "  The  Rivals. "  Once  while 
1  was  calling  on  him  in  Boston  he  acted  the  most 
striking  parts  of '  *  The  Rivals ' '  for  me.  The  reception- 
room  where  we  sat  served  for  a  stage.  He  and 
his  son  seated  themselves  at  the  big  table,  and  Bob 
Acres  wrote  his  challenge.  I  followed  all  his  move 
ments  with  my  hands,  and  caught  the  drollery  of  his 
blunders  and  gestures  in  a  way  that  would  have  been 
impossible  had  it  all  been  spelled  to  me.  Then  they 
rose  to  fight  the  duel,  and  I  followed  the  swift  thrusts 
and  parries  of  the  swords  and  the  waverings  of  poor 
Bob  as  his  courage  oozed  out  at  his  finger  ends. 
Then  the  great  actor  gave  his  coat  a  hitch  and  his 
mouth  a  twitch,  and  in  an  instant  I  was  in  the 
village  of  Falling  Water  and  felt  Schneider's  shaggy 
head  against  my  knee.  Mr.  Jefferson  recited  the 
best  dialogues  of  "Rip  Van  Winkle,"  in  which  the 
tear  came  close  upon  the  smile.  He  asked  me  to 
indicate  as  far  as  I  could  the  gestures  and  action 
that  should  go  with  the  lines.  Of  course,  I  have  no 
sense  whatever  of  dramatic  action,  and  could  make 
only  random  guesses;  but  with  masterful  art  he  suited 
the  action  to  the  word.  The  sigh  of  Rip  as  he 


I3o  THE   STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

murmurs,  "  Is  a  man  so  soon  forgotten  when  he  is 
gone?"  the  dismay  with  which  he  searches  for  dog 
and  gun  after  his  long  sleep,  and  his  comical  irreso 
lution  over  signing  the  contract  with  Derrick — all 
these  seem  to  be  right  out  of  life  itself;  that  is,  the 
ideal  life,  where  things  happen  as  we  think  they 
should. 

'  I  remember  well  the  first  time  I  went  to  the 
theatre.  It  was  twelve  years  ago.  Elsie  Leslie,  the 
little  actress,  was  in  Boston,  and  Miss  Sullivan  took 
me  to  see  her  in  "The  Prince  and  the  Pauper."  I 
shall  never  forget  the  ripple  of  alternating  joy  and 
woe  that  ran  through  that  beautiful  little  play,  or  the 
wonderful  child  who  acted  it.  After  the  play  I  was 
permitted  to  go  behind  the  scenes  and  meet  her  in 
her  royal  costume.  It  would  have  been  hard  to 
find  a  lovelier  or  more  lovable  child  than  Elsie,  as 
she  stood  with  a  cloud  of  golden  hair  floating  over 
her  shoulders,  smiling  brightly,  showing  no  signs  o{ 
shyness  or  fatigue,  though  she  had  been  playing  tc 
an  immense  audience.  I  was  only  just  learning  to 
speak,  and  had  previously  repeated  her  name  until  I 
could  say  it  perfectly.  Imagine  my  delight  when 
she  understood  the  few  words  I  spoke  to  her  and 
without  hesitation  stretched  her  hand  to  greet  me. 
f  I1  Is  it  not  true,  then,  that  my  life  with  all  its 
limitations  touches  at  many  points  the  life  of  the 
World  Beautiful?  Everything  has  its  wonders^ 
even  darkness  and  silence,  and  I  learn,  whatever 
i  state  I  may  be  in,  therein  to  be  content. 

Sometimes,  it  is  true,  a  sense  of  isolation  enfolds 
me  like  a  cold  mist  as  I  sit  alone  and  wait  at  life's 
shut  gate.  Beyond  there  is  light,  and  music,  and 
£weet  companionship;  but  I  may  not  enter. 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  131 

silent,  pitiless,  bars  the  way.  Fain  would  I  question 
his  imperious  decree;  for  my  heart  is  still  undisci 
plined  and  passionate ;  but  my  tongue  will  not  utter 
the  bitter,  futile  words  that  rise  to  my  lips,  and 
they  fall  back  into  my  heart  like  unshed  tears. 
Silence  sits  immense  upon  my  soul.  Then  comes 
hope  with  a  smile  and  whispers,  "  There  is  joy  in 
self-forgetfulness."  So  I  try  to  make  the  light  in 
others'  eyes  my  sun,  the  music  in  others'  ears  my 
symphony,  the  smile  on  others'  lips  my  happiness 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

WOULD  that  I  could  enrich  this  sketch  with  the 
names  of  all  those  who  have  ministered  to  my  happi* 
ness  !  Some  of  them  would  be  found  written  in  out 
literature  and  dear  to  the  hearts  of  many,  while 
others  would  be  wholly  unknown  to  most  of  my 
readers.  But  their  influence,  though  it  escapes 
fame,  shall  live  immortal  in  the  lives  that  have  been 
sweetened  and  ennobled  by  it.  Those  are  red-letter 
days  in  our  lives  when  we  meet  people  who  thrill  u? 
like  a  fine  poem,  people  whose  handshake  is  brimful 
of  unspoken  sympathy,  and  whose  sweet,  rich  natures 
impart  to  our  eager,  impatient  spirits  a  wonderful 
restfulness  which,  in  its  essence,  is  divine.  The 
perplexities,  irritations  and  worries  that  have 
absorbed  us  pass  like  unpleasant  dreams,  and  we 
wake  to  see  with  new  eyes  and  hear  with  new  ears 
the  beauty  and  harmony  of  God's  real  world.  The 
solemn  nothings  that  fill  our  everyday  life  blossom 
suddenly  into  bright  possibilities.  In  a  word,  while 
such  friends  are  near  us  we  feel  that  all  is  well. 
Perhaps  we  never  saw  them  before,  and  they  may 
never  cross  our  life's  path  again ;  but  the  influence 
of  their  calm,  mellow  natures  is  a  libation  poured 
upon  our  discontent,  and  we  feel  its  healing  touch, 
as  the  ocean  feels  the  mountain  stream  freshening 
its  brine. 

I  have  often  been  asked,  "Do  not  people  bore 
you? "  I  do  not  understand  quite  what  that  means. 

132 


THE  STORY  OF  MT  LIFE  133 

I  suppose  the  calls  of  the  stupid  and  curious,  espe 
cially  of  newspaper  reporters,  are  always  inop 
portune.  I  also  dislike  people  who  try  to  talk  down  ' 
to  my  understanding.  They  are  like  people  who 
when  walking  with  you  try  to  shorten  their  steps 
to  suit  yours ;  the  hypocrisy  in  both  cases  is  equally 
exasperating. 

The  hands  of  those  I  meet  are  dumbly  eloquent 
to  me.  The  touch  of  some  hands  is  an  impertinence. 
I  have  met  people  so  empty  of  joy,  that  when  I 
clasped  their  frosty  finger-tips,  it  seemed  as  if  I  were 
shaking  hands  with  a  northeast  storm.  Others 
there  are  whose  hands  have  sunbeams  in  them,  so 
that  their  grasp  warms  my  heart.  It  may  be  only 
the  clinging  touch  of  a  child's  hand ;  but  there  is  as 
much  potential  sunshine  in  it  for  me  as  there  is  in  a 
loving  glance  for  others.  A  hearty  handshake  or  a 
friendly  letter  gives  me  genuine  pleasure. 

I  have  many  far-off  friends  whom  I  have  never 
seen.  Indeed  they  are  so  many  that  I  have  often 
been  unable  to  reply  to  their  letters ;  but  I  wish  to 
say  here  that  I  am  always  grateful  for  their  kind 
words,  however  insufficiently  I  acknowledge  them. 

I  count  it  one  of  the  sweetest  privileges  of  my  life 
to  have  known  and  conversed  with  many  men  of 
genius.  Only  those  who  knew  Bishop  Brooks  can 
appreciate  the  joy  his  friendship  was  to  those  who 
possessed  it.  As  a  child  I  loved  to  sit  on  his  knee 
and  clasp  his  great  hand  with  one  of  mine,  while 
Miss  Sullivan  spelled  into  the  other  his  beautiful 
words  about  God  and  the  spiritual  world.  I  heard 
him  with  a  child's  wonder  and  delight.  My  spirit 
could  not  reach  up  to  his,  but  he  gave  me  a  real 
sense  of  joy  in  life,  and  I  never  left  him  without 


134  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

carrying  away  a  fine  thought  that  grew  in  beauty 
and  depth  of  meaning  as  I  grew.  Once,  when  I  was 
puzzled  to  know  why  there  were  so  many  religions, 
he  said:  "There  is  one  universal  religion,  Helen-—' 
the  religion  of  love.  Love  your  Heavenly  Father 
with  your  whole  heart  and  soul,  love  every  child  of 
God  as  much  as  ever  you  can,  and  remember  that 
the  possibilities  of  good  are  greater  than  the  possi 
bilities  of  evil;  and  you  have  the  key  to  Heaven." 
And  his  life  was  a  happy  illustration  of  this  great 
truth.  In  his  noble  soul  love  and  widest  knowledge 
were  blended  with  faith  that  had  become  insight. 
He  saw 

God  in  all  that  liberates  and  lifts, 

In  all  that  humbles,  sweetens  and  consoles. 

Bishop  Brooks  taught  me  no  special  creed  or 
dogma;  but  he  impressed  upon  my  mind  two  great 
ideas  —  the  fatherhood  of  God  and  the  brotherhood 
of  man,  and  made  me  feel  that  these  truths  underlie 
all  creeds  and  forms  of  worship.  God  is  love,  God 
is  our  Father,  we  are  His  children;  therefore  the 
darkest  clouds  will  break,  and  though  right  be 
worsted,  wrong  shall  not  triumph. 

I  am  too  happy  in  this  world  to  think  much  about 
the  future,  except  to  remember  that  I  have  cher 
ished  friends  awaiting  me  there  in  God's  beautiful 
Somewhere.  In  spite  of  the  lapse  of  years,  they 
seem  so  close  to  me  that  I  should  not  think  it 
strange  if  at  any  moment  they  should  clasp  my 
hand  and  speak  words  of  endearment  as  they  used 
to  before  they  went  away. 

Since  Bishop  Brooks  died  I  have  read  the  Bible 
through ;  also  some  philosophical  works  on  religion, 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  135 


tr. 


among  them  Sweden  borg's  *' Heaven  and  Hell 
and  Drummond's  "Ascent  of  Man,"  and  I  have 
found  no  creed  or  system  more  soul-satisfying  than 
Bishop  Brooks's  creed  of  love.  I  knew  Mr.  Henry 
Drummond,  and  the  memory  of  his  strong,  warm 
hand-clasp  is  like  a  benediction.  He  was  the  most 
sympathetic  of  companions.  He  knew  so  much 
and  was  so  genial  that  it  was  impossible  to  feel  dull 
in  his  presence. 

I  remember  well  the  first  time  I  saw  Dr.  Oliver 
Wendell  Holmes.  He  had  invited  Miss  Sullivan  and 
me  to  call  on  him  one  Sunday  afternoon.  It  was 
early  in  the  spring,  just  after  I  had  learned  to  speak. 
We  were  shown  at  once  to  his  library  where  we  found 
him  seated  in  a  big  armchair  by  an  open  fire  which 
glowed  and  crackled  on  the  hearth,  thinking,  he  said, 
of  other  days. 

"And  listening  to  the  murmur  of  the  River 
Charles, IJ  I  suggested. 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  "the  Charles  has  many  dear 
associations  for  me."  There  was  an  odour  of  print 
and  leather  in  the  room  which  told  me  that  it  was 
full  of  books,  and  I  stretched  out  my  hand  instinc 
tively  to  find  them.  My  fingers  lighted  upon  a 
beautiful  volume  of  Tennyson's  poems,  and  when 
Miss  Sullivan  told  me  what  it  was  I  began  to  recite : 

Break,  break,  break 

On  thy  cold  gray  stones,  O  sea  I 

But  I  stopped  suddenly.  I  felt  tears  on  my  hand. 
I  had  made  my  beloved  poet  weep,  and  I  was 
greatly  distressed.  He  made  me  sit  in  his  arm 
chair,  while  he  brought  different  interesting  things 
;  for  me  to  examine,  and  at  his  request  I  recited 


i36  THE   STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

"The  Chambered  Nautilus,'*  which  was  then  my 
favorite  poem.  After  that  1  saw  Dr.  Holmes  many 
times  and  learned  to  love  the  man  as  well  as  the  poet. 

One  beautiful  summer  day,  not  long  after  my 
meeting  with  Dr.  Holmes,  Miss  Sullivan  and  I 
visited  Whittier  in  his  quiet  home  on  the  Merrimac. 
His  gentle  courtesy  and  quaint  speech  won  my  heart. 
He  had  a  book  of  his  poems  in  raised  print  from 
which  I  read  "  In  School  Days. "  He  was  delighted 
that  I  could  pronounce  the  words  so  well,  and 
Said  that  he  had  no  difficulty  in  understanding  me. 
Then  I  asked  many  questions  about  the  poem,  and 
read  his  answers  by  placing  my  fingers  on  his  lips. 
He  said  he  was  the  little  boy  in  the  poem,  and  that 
the  girl's  name  was  Sally,  and  more  which  I  have 
forgotten.  I  also  recited  "Laus  Deo,"  and  as  I 
6poke  the  concluding  verses,  he  placed  in  my  hands 
a  statue  of  a  slave  from  whose  crouching  figure  the 
fetters  were  falling,  even  as  they  fell  from  Peter's 
limbs  when  the  angel  led  him  forth  out  of  prison. 
Afterward  we  went  into  his  study,  and  he  wrote  his* 
autograph  for  my  teacher  and  expressed  his  admira 
tion  of  her  work,  saying  to  me,  "  She  is  thy  spiritual 
liberator."  Then  he  led  me  to  the  gate  and  kissed 
me  tenderly  on  my  forehead.  I  promised  to  visit 
him  again  the  following  summer;  but  he  died  before 
the  promise  was  fulfilled. 

Dr.  Edward  Everett  Hale  is  one  of  my  very 
oldest  friends.  I  have  known  him  since  I  was  eight 
and  my  love  for  him  has  increased  with  my  years. 
His  wise,  tender  sympathy  has  been  the  support  of 

*  "  With  great  admiration  of  thy  noble  work  in  releasing  from 
bondage  the  mind  of  thy  dear  pupil,  I  am  truly  thy  friend. 
JOHN  G.  WHITTIEH." 


Photograph  by  Marshall,  1902 

MISS    KELLER,    MISS    SULLIVAN    AND 
DR.   EDWARD    EVERETT   HALE 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  137 

Miss  Sullivan  and  me  in  times  of  trial  and  sorrow, 
and  his  strong  hand  has  helped  us  over  many  rough 
places ;  and  what  he  has  done  for  us  he  has  done  for 
thousands  of  those  who  have  difficult  tasks  to  accom 
plish.  He  has  filled  the  old  skins  of  dogma  with 
the  new  wine  of  love,  and  shown  men  what  it  is  to 
^  believe,  live  and  be  free.  What  he  has  taught  we 
have  seen  beautifully  expressed  in  his  own  life- 
love  of  country,  kindness  to  the  least  of  his  brethren, 
and  a  sincere  desire  to  live  upward  and  onward.  He 
has  been  a  prophet  and  an  inspirer  of  men,  and  a 
mighty  doer  of  the  Word,  the  friend  of  all  his 
race — God  bless  him  ! 

I  have  already  written  of  my  first  meeting  with 
Dr.  Alexander  Graham  Bell.  Since  then  I  have 
spent  many  happy  days  with  him  at  Washington 
and  at  his  beautiful  home  in  the  heart  of  Cape 
Breton  Island,  near  Baddeck,  the  village  made 
famous  by  Charles  Dudley  Warner's  book.  Here 
in  Dr.  Bell's  laboratory,  or  in  the  fields  on  the 
shore  of  the  great  Bras  d'Or,  I  have  spent  many 
delightful  hours  listening  to  what  he  had  to  tell  me 
about  his  experiments,  and  helping  him  fly  kites  by 
means  of  which  he  expects  to  discover  the  laws 
that  shall  govern  the  future  air-ship.  Dr.  Bell  is 
proficient  in  many  fields  of  science,  and  has  the 
art  of  making  every  subject  he  touches  interesting,, 
even  the  most  abstruse  theories.  He  makes  you  feel 
that  if  you  only  had  a  little  more  time,  you,  too, 
might  be  an  inventor.  He  has  a  humorous  and 
poetic  side,  too.  His  dominating  passion  is  his 
love  for  children.  He  is  never  quite  so  happy  as 
when  he  has  a  little  deaf  child  in  his  arms.  His 
labours  in  behalf  of  the  deaf  will  live  on  and  bless 


THE   STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 


generations  of  children  yet  to  come  ;  and  we  love  him 
alike  for  what  he  himself  has  achieved  and  for  what 
he  has  evoked  from  others. 

During  the  two  years  I  spent  in  New  York  I  had 
many  opportunities  to  talk  with  distinguished 
people  whose  names  I  had  often  heard,  but  whom  I 
had  never  expected  to  meet.  Most  of  them  I  met 
first  in  the  ho/jse  of  my  good  friend,  Mr.  Laurence 
Hutton.  It  was  a  great  privilege  to  visit  him  and 
dear  Mrs.  Hutton  in  their  lovely  home,  and  see  their 
library  and  read  the  beautiful  sentiments  and  bright 
thoughts  gifted  friends  had  written  for  them.  It 
has  been  truly  said  that  Mr.  Hutton  has  the  faculty 
cf  bringing  out  in  every  one  the  best  thoughts  and 
kindest  sentiments.  One  does  not  need  to  read 
"A  Boy  I  Knew"  to  understand  him  —  the  most 
generous,  sweet-natured  boy  I  ever  knew,  a  goo^l 
friend  in  all  sorts  of  weather,  who  traces  the  foot* 
prints  of  love  in  the  life  of  dogs  as  well  as  in  that 
of  his  fellowmen. 

Mrs.  Hutton  is  a  true  and  tried  friend.  Much  that 
I  hold  sweetest,  much  that  I  hold  most  precious, 
I  owe  to  her.  She  has  oftenest  advised  and  helped 
me  in  my  progress  through  college.  When  I  find 
my  work  particularly  difficult  and  discouraging, 
she  writes  me  letters  that  make  me  feel  glad  and 
brave;  for  she  is  one  of  those  from  whom  we  learn 
that  one  painful  duty  fulfilled  makes  the  next 
plainer  and  easier. 

Mr.  Hutton  introduced  me  to  many  of  his  literary 
friends,  greatest  of  whom  are  Mr.  William  Dean 
Howells  and  Mark  Twain.  I  also  met  Mr.  Richard 
Watson  Gilder  and  Mr.  Edmund  Clarence  Stedman. 
I  also  knew  Mr.  Charles  Dudley  WTarner,  the  most 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  139 

delightful  of  story-tellers  and  the  most  beloved 
friend,  whose  sympathy  was  so  broad  that  it  may 
be  truly  said  of  him,  he  loved  all  living  things  and 
his  neighbour  as  himself.  Once  Mr.  Warner  brought 
to  see  me  the  dear  poet  of  the  woodlands — Mr.  John 
Burroughs.  They  were  all  gentle  and  sympathetic 
and  I  felt  the  charm  of  their  manner  as  much 
as  I  had  felt  the  brilliancy  of  their  essays  and  poems. 
I  could  not  keep  pace  with  all  these  literary  folk  as 
they  glanced  from  subject  to  subject  and  entered  into 
deep  dispute,  or  made  conversation  sparkle  with 
epigrams  and  happy  witticisms.  I  was  like  little 
Ascanius,  who  followed  with  unequal  steps  the 
heroic  strides  of  ^Eneas  on  his  march  toward 
mighty  destinies.  But  they  spoke  many  gracious 
words  to  me.  Mr.  Gilder  told  me  about  his 
moonlight  journeys  across  the  vast  desert  to  the 
Pyramids,  and  in  a  letter  he  wrote  me  he  made 
his  mark  under  his  signature  deep  in  the  paper  so 
that  I  could  feel  it.  This  reminds  me  that  Dr.  Hale 
used  to  give  a  personal  touch  to  his  letters  to  me 
by  pricking  his  signature  in  braille.  I  read  from 
Mark  Twain's  lips  one  or  two  of  his  good  stories. 
He  has  his  own  way  of  thinking,  saying  and  doing 
everything.  I  feel  the  twinkle  of  his  eye  in  his  hand 
shake.  Even  while  he  utters  his  cynical  wisdom 
in  an  indescribably  •  droll  voice,  he  makes  you  feel 
that  his  heart  is  a  tender  Iliad  of  human  sympathy. 
There  are  a  host  of  other  interesting  people  I  met 
in  New  York:  Mrs.  Mary  Mapes  Dodge,  the  beloved 
editor  of  St.  Nicholas,  and  Mrs.  Riggs  (Kate  Douglas 
Wiggin),  the  sweet  author  of  "Patsy."  I  received 
from  them  gifts  that  have  the  gentle  concurrence  of 
the  heart,  books  containing  their  own  thoughts, 


i4o  THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE 


. 


soul-illumined  letters,  and  photographs  that  1 
love  to  have  described  again  and  again.  But  there 
is  not  space  to  mention  all  my  friends,  and  indeed 
there  are  things  about  them  hidden  behind  the 
wings  of  cherubim,  things  too  sacred  to  set  forth  in 
cold  print.  It  is  with  hesitancy  that  I  have  spoken 
even  of  Mrs.  Laurence  Hutton. 

I  shall  mention  only  two  other  friends.  One  is 
Mrs.  William  Thaw,  of  Pittsburgh,  whom  I  have  often 
visited  in  her  home,  Lyndhurst.  She  is  always 
doing  something  to  make  some  one  happy,  and  her 
generosity  and  wise  counsel  have  never  failed  my 
ieacher  and  me  in  all  the  years  we  have  known  her. 

To  the  other  friend  I  am  also  deeply  indebted. 
He  is  well  known  for  the  powerful  hand  with  which 
he  guides  vast  enterprises,  and  his  wonderful  abili 
ties  have  gained  for  him  the  respect  of  all.  Kind 
to  every  one,  he  goes  about  doing  good,  silent  and 
unseen.  Again  I  touch  upon  the  circle  of  honoured 
names  I  must  not  mention ;  but  I  would  fain  acknowl 
edge  his  generosity  and  affectionate  interest  which 
make  it  possible  for  me  to  go  to  college. 

Thus  it  is  that  my  friends  have  made  the  story  ot 
my  life.  In  a  thousand  ways  they  have  turned  my 
limitations  into  beautiful  privileges,  and  enabled 
me  to  walk  serene  and  happy  in  the  shadow  cast  by 
deprivation. 


PART  II 

LETTERS   (1887-1901) 


INTRODUCTION 


HELEN    KELLER'S    letters  are  important,  not  only  a* 
a  supplementary  story  of  her  life,  but  as  a  demonstra 
tion  of  her  growth  in    thought    and  expression — the 
growth  which  in  itself  has  made  her  distinguished. 

These  letters,  are,  however,  not  merely  remarkable  as  the 
productions  of  a  deaf  and  blind  girl,  to  be  read  with  wonder 
and  curiosity;  they  are  good  letters  almost  from  the  first.  The 
i  best  passages  are  those  in  which  she  talks  about  herself,  and  gives 
her  world  in  terms  of  her  experience  of  it.  Her  views  on  the 
precession  of  the  equinoxes  are  not  important,  but  most  impor 
tant  are  her  accounts  of  what  speech  meant  to  her,  of  how  she 
felt  the  statues,  the  dogs,  the  chickens  at  the  poultry  show,  and 
how  she  stood  in  the  aisle  of  St.  Bartholomew's  and  felt  the  organ 
rumble.  Those  are  passages  of  which  one  would  ask  for  more. 
The  reason  they  are  comparatively  few  is  that  all  her  life  she 
has  been  trving  to  be  "like  other  people,"  and  so  she  too  often  • 
describes  things  not  as  they  appear  to  her,  but  as  they  appear 
to  one  with  eyes  and  ears. 

One  cause  for  the  excellence  of  her  letters  is  the  great  number 
I  of  them.     They  are  the  exercises  which  have  trained  her  to 
;  write.     She  has  lived  at  different  times  in  different  parts  of  the 
i  country,  and  so  has  been  separated  from  most  of  her  friends 
and  relatives.     Of  her  friends,  many  have  been  distinguished 
people,  to  whom — not  often,  I  think,  at  the  sacrifice  of  spon 
taneity — she  has  felt  it  necessary  to  write  well.     To  them  and 
If  to  a  few  friends  with  whom  she  is  in  closest  sympathy  she  writes 
I  with  intimate  frankness  whatever  she  is  thinking  about.     Her 
naive  retelling  of  a  child's  tale  she  has  heard,  like  the  story  of 
"Little  Jakey,"  which  she  rehearses  for  Dr.  Holmes  and  Bishop 
Brooks,   is  charming  and   her  grave  paraphrase  of  the  day's 
i  lesson   in   geography  or  botany,   her   parrot-like   repetition  of 
[•what  she  has  heard,  and  her  conscious  display  of  new  words,  are 
i  delightful  and  instructive;  for  they  show  not  only  what  she  was 

143 


-144  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

learning,  but  how,  by  putting  'it  all  into  letters,  she  made  the 
new  knowledge  and  the  new  words  her  own. 
*  So  these  selections  from  Miss  Keller's  correspondence  are 
made  with  two  purposes — to  show  her  development  and  to 
preserve  the  most  entertaining  and  significant  passages  from 
several  hundred  letters.  Many  of  those  written  before  1892 
were  published  in  the  reports  of  the  Perkins  Institution  for  the 
Blind.  All  letters  up  to  that  year  are  printed  intact,  for  it  is 
legitimate  to  be  interested  in  the  degree  of  skill  the  child  showed 
in  writing,  even  to  details  of  punctuation;  so  it  is  well  to  preserve 
a  literal  integrity  of  reproduction.  From  the  letters  after  the 
year  1892  I  have  culled  in  the  spirit  of  one  making  an  anthology, 
choosing  the  passages  best  in  style  and  most  important  from 
the  point  of  view  of  biography.  Where  I  have  been  able  to 
collate  the  original  letters  I  have  preserved  everything  as  Miss 
Keller  wrote  it,  punctuation,  spelling,  and  all.  I  have  done 
nothing  but  select  and  cut. 

!  The  letters  are  arranged  in  chronological  order.  One  or  two 
letters  from  Bishop  Brooks,  Dr.  Holmes,  and  Whittier  are  put 
immediately  after  the  letters  to  which  they  are  replies.  Except 
for  two  or  three  important  letters  of  1901,  these  selections  cease 
with  the  year  1900.  In  that  year  Miss  Keller  entered  college. 
Now  that  she  is  a  grown  woman,  her  mature  letters  should  be 
judged  like  those  of  any  other  person,  and  it  seems  best  that 
no  more  of  her  correspondence  be  published  unless  she  should 
become  distinguished  beyond  the  fact  that  she  is  the  only  well- 
educated  deaf  and  blind  person  in  the  world. 


Photograph  by  E.  C.  Kopp, 
MISS  KELLER  AND    <  MARK  TWAIN  " 


LETTERS  (1887-1901) 

Miss  Sullivan  began  to  teach  Helen  Keller  on  March 
3rd,  1887.  Three  months  and  a  half  after  the  first 
word  was  spelled  into  her  hand,  she  wrote  in  pencil  this 
ktter 


TO  HER  COUSIN  ANNA  (MRS.  GEORGE  T.  TURNER) 

[TUSCUMBIA,  ALABAMA,  June  17,  1887.] 
helen  write  anna  george  will  give  helen  apple  simpson 
will  shoot  bird  jack  will  give  helen  stick  of  candy  doctor 
will  give  mildred  medicine  mother  will  make  mildred  new 
dress 

[No  signature^ 


Twenty-five  days  later,  while  she  was  on  a  short 
visit  away  from  home,  she  wrote  to  her  mother. 
Two  words  are  almost  illegible,  and  the  angular  print 
slants  in  every  direction. 


TO  MRS.  KATE  ADAMS  KELLER 

[HUNTSVILLE,  ALABAMA,  July   12,    1887.] 
Helen    will    write    mother    letter    papa    did    give 
helen  medicine  mildred  will  sit  in  swing  mildred  did 


*46  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE     [Sept.,  ^ 

kiss  helen  teacher  did  give  Helen  peach  george  is  sick 
in  bed  george  arm  is  hurt  anna  did  give  helen  lemon 
ade  dog  did  stand  up. 

conductor  did  punch  ticket  papa  did  give  helen 
drink  of  water  in  car 

carlotta  did  give  helen  flowers  anna  will  buy  helen 
pretty  new  hat  helen  will  hug  and  kiss  mother  helen 
will  come  home  grandmother  does  love  helen 

good-by 

[No  signature.] 


By  the  following  September  Helen  shows  improve 
ment  in  fulness  of  construction  and  more  extended 
relations  of  thought. 


TO   THE   BLIND    GIRLS    A.T   THE    PERKINS    INSTITUTION 
IN    SOUTH    BOSTON 

[TUSCUMBIA,  September,  1887.] 
Helen  will  write  little  blind  girls  a  letter 
Helen  and  teacher  will  come  to  see  little  blind 
girls  Helen  and  teacher  will  go  in  steam  cat 
to  boston  Helen  and  blind  girls  will  have  fun 
blind  girls  can  talk  on  fingers  Helen  will  see  Mr 
anagnos  Mr  anagnos  will  love  and  kiss  Helen  Helen 
will  go  to  school  with  blind  girls  Helen  can  read  and 
count  and  spell  and  write  like  blind  girls  mildred 
will  not  go  to  boston  Mildred  does  cry  prince  and 
jumbo  will  go  to  boston  papa  does  shoot  ducks  with 
gun  and  ducks  do  fall  in  water  and  jumbo  and  mami«? 
io  swim  in  water  and  bring"  ducks  out  in  mouth  tel 


net.  ft  LETTERS 

papa  Helen  does  play  witH  dogs  Helen  does  ride 
on  horseback  with  teacher  Helen  does  give  handee 
grass  in  hand  teacher  does  whip  handee  to  go  fast 
Helen  is  blind  Helen  will  put  letter  in  envelope 
for  blind  girls  good-by 

HELEN  KELLER 


A  few  weeks  later  her  style  is  more  nearly  correct 
and  freer  in  movement.  She  improves  in  idiom, 
although  she  still  omits  articles  and  uses  the  "  did" 
construction  for  the  simple  past.  This  is  an  idiom 
common  among  children. 


TO  THE   BLIND   GIRLS    AT  THE    PERKINS    INSTITUTION 

[TuscuMBiA,  October  24,  1887.] 
dear  little  blind  girls 

I  will  write  you  a  letter  I  thank  you  for  pretty 
desk  I  did  write  to  mother  in  memphis  on  it 
mother  and  mildred  came  home  Wednesday  mother 
brought  me  a  pretty  new  dress  and  hat  papa  did  go 
to  huntsville  he  brought  me  apples  and  candy  I 
and  teacher  will  come  to  boston  and  see  you  nancy 
is  my  doll  she  does  cry  I  do  rock  nancy  to  sleep 
mildred  is  sick  doctor  will  give  her  medicine  to 
make  her  well.  I  and  teacher  did  go  to  church 
Sunday  mr.  lane  did  read  in  book  and  talk  Lady 
did  play  organ.  I  did  give  man  money  in  basket. 
*  will  he  good  girl  and  teacher  will  curl  my  hail 


i48  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE     [Mw..'*7 

lovely.     I  will  hug  and  kiss  little  blind  girls    mr* 
anagnos  will  come  to  see  me. 
good-by 

HELEN  KELLER 


TO   MR.    MICHAEL   ANAGNOS,    DIRECTOR    OF    THE 
PERKINS    INSTITUTION 

[TUSCUMBIA,  November,  1887.] 
dear  mr.  anagnos  I  will  write  you  a  letter.  I  and 
teacher  did  have  pictures,  teacher  will  send  it  to 
you.  photographer  does  make  pictures,  carpenter 
does  build  new  houses,  gardener  does  dig  and  hoe 
ground  and  plant  vegetables,  my  doll  nancy  is 
sleeping,  she  is  sick,  mildred  is  well  uncle  frank 
has  gone  hunting  deer,  we  will  have  venison  for 
breakfast  when  he  comes  home.  I  did  ride  in  wheel 
barrow  and  teacher  did  push  it.  simpson  did  give 
me  popcorn  and  \valnuts.  cousin  rosa  has  gone  to 
see  her  mother,  people  do  go  to  church  Sunday.  I 
did  read  in  my  book  about  fox  and  box.  fox  can 
sit  in  the  box.  I  do  like  to  read  in  my  book,  you 
do  love  me.  I  do  love  you. 

good-by 

HELEN  KELLER, 


TO  DR.  ALEXANDER  GRAHAM  BELL 

[TUSCUMBIA,   NOVEMBER,    1887.] 
DEAR  MR.  BELL. 

I  am  glad  to  write  you  a  letter.     Father  will 


Aet.  7\  LETTERS  149 

send  you  picture.  I  and  Father  and  aunt  did 
go  to  see  you  in  Washington.  I  did  play  with 
your  watch.  I  do  love  you.  I  saw  doctor  in 
Washington.  He  looked  at  my  eyes.  I  can  read 
stories  in  my  book.  I  can  write  and  spell  and  count, 
good  girl.  My  sister  can  walk  and  run.  We  do  have 
fun  with  Jumbo.  Prince  is  not  good  dog.  He  can 
not  get  birds.  Rat  did  kill  baby  pigeons.  I  am 
sorry.  Rat  does  not  know  wrong.  I  and  mother 
and  teacher  will  go  to  Boston  in  June.  I  will  see 
little  blind  girls.  Nancy  will  go  with  me.  She  is 
a  good  doll.  Father  will  buy  me  lovely  new  watch. 
Cousin  Anna  gave  me  a  pretty  doll.  Her  name  is 
Allie. 

Good -by, 

HELEN  KELLER. 


By  the  beginning  of  the  next  year  her  idioms  are 
firmer.  More  adjectives  appear,  including  adjec 
tives  of  colour.  Although  she  can  have  no  sensuous 
knowledge  of  colour,  she  can  use  the  words,  as  we 
use  most  of  our  vocabulary,  intellectually,  with 
truth,  not  to  impression,  but  to  fact.  This  letter 
is  to  a  school-mate  at  the  Perkins  Institution. 


TO    MISS    SARAH    TOMLINSON 

TUSCUMBIA,  Ala.  Jan.  2nd  1888. 
Dear  Sarah 

I  am  happy  to  write  to  you  this  mom- 
ing.     I  hope  Mr.  Anagnos  is  coming  to  see  me  soon* 


*5o  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE    tfan.*.w 

I  will  go  to  Boston  in  June  and  I  will  buy  father 
gloves,  and  James  nice  collar,  and  Simpson  cuffs.  I 
saw  Miss  Betty  and  her  scholars.  They  bad  a  pretty 
Christmas-tree,  and  there  were  many  pretty  presents 
on  it  for  little  children.  I  had  a  mug,  and  little 
bird  and  candy.  I  had  many  lovely  things  for 
Christmas.  Aunt  gave  me  a  trunk  for  Nancy  and 
clothes.  I  went  to  party  with  teacher  and  mother. 
We  did  dance  and  play  and  eat  nuts  and  candy  and 
cakes  and  oranges  and  I  did  have  fun  with  little  boys 
and  girls.  Mrs.  Hopkins  did  send  me  lovely  ring,  I 
do  love  her  and  little  blind  girls. 

Men  and  boys  do  make  carpets  in  mills.  Wool 
grows  on  sheep.  Men  do  cut  sheep's  wool  off  with 
large  shears,  and  send  it  to  the  mill.  Men  and 
women  do  make  wool  cloth  in  mills. 

Cotton  grows  on  large  stalks  in  fields.  Men  and 
boys  and  girls  and  women  do  pick  cotton.  We  do 
make  thread  and  cotton  dresses  of  cotton.  Cotton 
has  pretty  white  and  red  flowers  on  it.  Teacher  did 
tear  her  dress.  Mildred  does  cry.  I  will  nurse 
Nancy.  Mother  will  buy  me  lovely  new  aprons  and 
dress  to  take  to  Boston.  I  went  to  Knoxville  with 
father  and  aunt.  Bessie  is  weak  and  little.  Mrs. 
Thompson's  chickens  killed  Leila's  chickens.  Eva 
ioes  sleep  in  my  bed.  I  do  love  good  girls. 
Good-by 

HELEN  KELLER. 


The  next  two  letters  mention  her  visit  in  January 
to  her  relatives  in  Memphis,  Tennessee.  She  was 
taken  to  the  cotton  exchange.  When  she  felt  th<$ 


4^.7)  LETTERS  151 

maps  and  blackboards  she  asked,  "Do  men  go  ta 
school?"  She  wrote  on  the  blackboard  the  names 
of  all  the  gentlemen  present.  While  at  Memphis, 
she  went  over  one  of  the  large  Mississippi  steamers. 


TO  DR.  EDWARD  EVERETT  HALE 

TUSCUMBIA,  Alabama,  February  i$th  [1888]. 
Dear  Mr.  Hale, 

I  am  happy  to  write  you  a  letter  this 
morning.  Teacher  told  me  about  kind  gentleman 
I  shall  be  glad  to  read  pretty  story  I  do  read 
stories  in  my  book  about  tigers  and  lions  and  sheep. 
I  am  coming  to  Boston  in  June  to  see  little  blind 
girls  and  I  will  come  to  see  you.  I  went  to  Memphis 
to  see  grandmother  and  Aunt  Nannie.  Teacher 
bought  me  lovely  new  dress  and  cap  and  aprons. 
Little  Natalie  is  a  very  weak  and  small  baby. 
Father  took  us  to  see  steamboat.  It  was  on  a  large 
river.  Boat  is  like  house.  Mildred  is  a  good  baby. 
I  do  love  to  play  with  little  sister.  Nancy  was  not 
a  good  child  when  I  went  to  Memphis.  She  did  cry 
loud.  I  will  not  write  more  to-day.  I  am  tired. 

Good-by 

HELEN  KELLER. 


TO    MR.    MICHAEL    ANAGNOS 

TUSCUMBIA,  Ala.,  Feb.  24th,  1888. 
My  dear  Mr.  Anagnos, — I  am  glad  to  -arrite  you  a 


iS2  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  [Feb.*4,'& 

tetter  in  Braille.  This  morning  Lucien  Thompson 
sent  me  a  beautiful  bouquet  of  violets  and  crocuses 
and  jonquils.  Sunday  Adeline  Moses  brought  me 
a  lovely  dolL  It  came  from  New  York.  Her  name 
is  Adeline  Keller.  She  can  shut  her  eyes  and  bend 
her  arms  and  sit  down  and  stand  up  straight.  She 
has  on  a  pretty  red  dress.  She  is  Nancy's  sister  and 
I  am  their  mother.  Allie  is  their  cousin.  Nancy 
was  a  bad  child  when  I  went  to  Memphis  she  cried 
loud,  I  whipped  her  with  a  stick. 

Mildred  does  feed  little  chickens  with  crumbs.  I 
love  to  play  with  little  sister. 

Teacher  and  I  went  to  Memphis  to  see  aunt 
Nannie  and  grandmother.  Louise  is  aunt  Nannie's 
child.  Teacher  bought  me  a  lovely  new  dress  and 
gloves  and  stockings  and  collars  and  grandmother 
made  me  warm  flannels,  and  aunt  Nannie  made  me 
aprons.  Lady  made  me  a  pretty  cap.  I  went  to 
see  Robert  and  Mr.  Graves  and  Mrs.  Graves  and 
little  Natalie,  and  Mr.  Farris  and  Mr.  Mayo  and 
Maty  and  everyone.  I  do  love  Robert  and  teacher. 
She  does  not  want  me  to  write  more  today.  I  feel 
tired. 

I  found  box  of  candy  in  Mr.  Grave's  pocket. 
Father  took  us  to  see  steam  boat  it  is  like  house. 
Boat  was  on  very  large  river.  Yates  plowed  yard 
today  to  plant  grass.  Mule  pulled  plow.  Mother 
will  make  garden  of  vegetables.  Father  will  plant 
melons  and  peas  and  beans. 

Cousin  Bell  will  come  to  see  us  Saturday.  Mother 
will  make  ice-cream  for  dinner,  we  will  have  ice 
cream  and  cake  for  dinner,  Lucien  Thompson  is 
sick.  I  am  sorry  for  him. 

Teacher  and  I  went  to  walk  in  the  yard,  and  I 
learned  about  how  flowers  aj.)d  trees  STOW, 


Act.  7}  LETTERS  153 

rises  in  the  east  and  sets  in  the  west.  Sheffield  is 
north  and  Tuscumbia  is  south.  We  will  go  to  Boston 
in  June.  I  will  have  fun  with  little  blind  girls. 

Good  bye 

HELEN  KELLER. 


"Uncle  Morrie"  of  the  next  letter  is  Mr.  Morrison 
Heady,  of  Normandy,  Kentucky,  who  lost  his  sight 
and  hearing  when  he  was  a  boy.  He  is  the  author 
of  some  commendable  verses. 


TO    MR.    MORRISON    HEADY 

TUSCUMBIA,  Ala.  March  ist  1888. 

My  dear  uncle  Morrie, — I  am  happy  to  write  you 
a  letter,  I  do  love  you,  and  I  will  hug  and  kiss  you 
when  I  see  you. 

Mr.  Anagnos  is  coming  to  see  me  Monday.  I  do 
]ove  to  run  and  hop  and  skip  with  Robert  in  bright 
warm  sun.  I  do  know  little  girl  in  Lexington  Ky. 
her  name  is  Katherine  Hobson. 

I  am  going  to  Boston  in  June  with  mother  and 
teacher,  I  will  have  fun  with  little  blind  girls,  and 
Mr.  Hale  will  send  me  pretty  story.  I  do  read 
stories  in  my  book  about  Hons  and  tigers  and  bears. 

Mildred  will  not  go  to  Boston,  she  does  cry.  I 
love  to  play  with  little  sister,  she  is  weak  and  small 
baby.  Eva  is  better. 

Yates  killed  ants,  ants  stung  Yates.  Yates  ifi 
digging  in  garden.  Mr.  Anagnos  did  see  oranges, 
they  look  like  golden  apples. 


154  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE    W*y  3.'** 

Robert  will  come  to  see  me  Sunday  when  sun 
shines  and  I  will  have  fun  with  him.  My  cousin 
Frank  lives  in  Louisville.  I  will  come  to  Memphis 
again  to  see  Mr.  Farris  and  Mrs.  Graves  and  Mr. 
Mayo  and  Mr.  Graves.  Natalie  is  a  good  girl  and 
does  not  cry,  and  she  will  be  big  and  Mrs.  Graves  is 
making  short  dresses  for  her.  Natalie  has  a  little 
carriage.  Mr.  Mayo  has  been  to  Duck  Hill  and  he 
brought  sweet  flowers  home. 

With  much  love  and  a  kiss 

HELEN  A.  KELLER. 


In  this  account  of  the  picnic  we  get  an  illumi 
nating  glimpse  of  Miss  Sullivan's  skill  in  teaching 
her  pupil  during  play  hours.  This  was  a  day  when 
the  child's  vocabulary  grew. 


TO    MR.    MICHAEL   ANAGNOS 

TUSCUMBIA,  Ala.  May  3rd  1888. 

Dear  Mr.  Anagnos. — I  am  glad  to  write  to  you 
this  morning,  because  I  love  you  very  much.  I  was 
very  happy  to  receive  pretty  book  and  nice  candy 
and  two  letters  from  you.  I  will  come  to  see  you 
soon  and  will  ask  you  many  questions  about 
countries  and  you  will  love  good  child. 

Mother  is  making  me  pretty  new  dresses  to  wear 
in  Boston  and  I  will  look  lovely  to  see  little  girls  and 
boys  and  you.  Friday  teacher  and  I  went  to  a 
picnic  with  little  children.  We  played  games  and 
ate  dinner  under  the  trees,  and  we  found  ferns  and 


A*.?]  LETTERS  155 

wild  flowers.  I  walked  in  the  woods  and  learned 
names  of  many  trees.  There  are  poplar  and  cedaf 
and  pine  and  oak  and  ash  and  hickory  and  maple 
trees.  They  make  a  pleasant  shade  and  the  little 
birds  love  to  swing  to  and  fro  and  sing  sweetly  up  in 
the  trees.  Rabbits  hop  and  squirrels  run  and  ugly 
snakes  do  crawl  in  the  woods.  Geraniums  and 
roses  jasamines  and  japonicas  are  cultivated  flowers, 
I  help  mother  and  teacher  water  them  every  night 
before  supper. 

Cousin  Arthur  made  me  a  swing  in  the  ash  tree. 
Aunt  Ev.  has  gone  to  Memphis.  Uncle  Frank  is 
here.  He  is  picking  strawberries  for  dinner.  Nancy 
is  sick  again,  new  teeth  do  make  her  ill.  Adeline  is 
well  and  she  can  go  to  Cincinnati  Monday  with  me. 
Aunt  Ev.  will  send  me  a  boy  doll,  Harry  will  be 
Nancy's  and  Adeline's  brother.  Wee  sister  is  a 
good  girl.  I  am  tired  now  and  I  do  want  to  go 
down  stairs,  I  send  many  kisses  and  hugs  with 
letter. 

Your  darling  child 

HELEN  KELLER. 


Toward  the  end  of  May  Mrs.  Keller,  Helen,  and 
Miss  Sullivan  started  for  Boston.  On  the  way  they 
spent  a  few  days  in  Washington,  where  they 
saw  Dr.  Alexander  Graham  Bell  and  called  on 
President  Cleveland.  On  May  26th  they  arrived 
in  Boston  and  went  to  the  Perkins  Institution ;  here 
Helen  met  the  little  blind  girls  with  whom  she  had 
corresponded  the  year  before. 


156  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE       [Sept.  •** 

Early  in  July  she  went  to  Brewster,  Massachu 
setts,  and  spent  the  rest  of  the  summer.  Here 
occurred  her  first  encounter  with  the  sea,  of  which 
she  has  since  written. 


TO    MISS    MARY    C.    MOORE 

So.  BOSTON,  Mass.  Sept.  il 
My  dear  Miss  Moore 

Are  you  very  glad  to  receive  a  nice 
letter  from  your  darling  little  friend  ?  I  love  you 
very  dearly  because  you  are  my  friend.  My 
precious  little  sister  is  quite  well  now.  She  likes 
to  sit  in  my  little  rocking-chair  and  put  her  kitty  to 
sleep.  Would  you  like  to  see  darling  little  Mildred  ? 
She  is  a  very  pretty  baby.  Her  eyes  are  very  big 
and  blue,  and  her  cheeks  are  soft  and  round  and  rosy 
and  her  hair  is  very  bright  and  golden.  She  is  very 
good  and  sweet  when  she  does  not  cry  loud.  Next 
summer  Mildred  will  go  out  in  the  garden  with  me 
and  pick  the  big  sweet  strawberries  and  then  she  will 
be  very  happy.  I  hope  she  will  not  eat  too  many 
of  the  delicious  fruit  for  they  will  make  her  very  ill. 

Sometime  will  you  please  come  to  Alabama  and 
visit  me  ?  My  uncle  James  is  going  to  buy  me  a  very 
gentle  pony  and  a  pretty  cart  and  I  shall  be  very 
happy  to  take  you  and  Harry  to  ride.  I  hope  Harry 
will  not  be  afraid  of  my  pony.  I  think  my  father 
will  buy  me  a  beautiful  little  brother  some  day.  I 
shall  be  very  gentle  and  patient  to  my  new  little 
brother.  When  I  visit  many  strange  countries  my 
brother  and  Mildred  will  stay  with  grandmother 


Aet.S]  LETTERS  157 

because  they  will  be  too  small  to  see  a  great  many 
people  and  I  think  they  would  cry  loud  on  the  greafc 
rough  ocean. 

When  Capt.  Baker  gets  well  he  will  take  me  in  his 
big  ship  to  Africa.  Then  I  shall  see  lions  and  tigers 
and  monkeys.  I  will  get  a  baby  lion  and  a  white 
monkey  and  a  mild  bear  to  bring  home.  I  had  a 
very  pleasant  time  at  Brewster.  I  went  in  bathing 
almost  every  day  and  Carrie  and  Frank  and  little 
Helen  and  I  had  fun.  We  splashed  and  jumped  and 
waded  in  the  deep  water.  I  am  not  afraid  to  float 
now.  Can  Harry  float  and  swim?  We  came  to 
Boston  last  Thursday,  and  Mr.  Anagnos  was  de 
lighted  to  see  me,  and  he  hugged  and  kissed  me. 
The  little  girls  are  coming  back  to  school  next 
Wednesday. 

Will  you  please  tell  Harry  to  write  me  a  very  long 
letter  soon?  When  you  come  to  Tuscumbia  to  see 
me  I  hope  my  father  will  have  many  sweet  apples 
and  juicy  peaches  and  fine  pears  and  delicious 
grapes  and  large  water  melons. 

I  hope  you  think  about  me  and  love  me  because 
I  am  a  good  little  child. 

With  much  love  and  two  kisses 

From  your  little  friend 

HELEN  A.  KELLER. 


In  this  account  of  a  visit  to  some  friends,  Helen's 
thought  is  much  what  one  would  expect  from  an 
ordinary  child  of  eight,  except  perhaps  her  naive 
satisfaction  in  the  boldness  of  the  young  gentlemen* 


15*  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  [Sept.z4,'S* 

TO    MRS.    KATE    ADAMS    KELLER 

So.  BOSTON,  Mass,  Sept.  24th  [1888]. 
My  dear  Mother, 

I  think  you  will  be  very  glad  to  know 
all  about  my  visit  to  West  Newton.  Teacher  and  I 
had  a  lovely  time  with  many  kind  friends.  West 
Newton  is  not  far  from  Boston  and  we  went  there 
in  the  steam  cars  very  quickly. 

Mrs.  Freeman  and  Carrie  and  Ethel  and  Frank 
and  Helen  came  to  station  to  meet  us  in  a  huge 
carriage.  I  was  delighted  to  see  my  dear  little 
friends  and  I  hugged  and  kissed  them.  Then  we 
rode  for  a  long  time  to  see  all  the  beautiful  things  in 
West  Newton.  Many  very  handsome  houses  and 
large  soft  green  lawns  around  them  and  trees  and 
bright  flowers  and  fountains.  The  horse's  name 
was  Prince  and  he  was  gentle  and  liked  to  trot  very 
fast.  When  we  went  home  we  saw  eight  rabbits 
and  two  fat  puppies,  and  a  nice  little  white  pony, 
and  two  wee  kittens  and  a  pretty  curly  dog  named 
Don.  Pony's  name  was  Mollie  and  I  had  a  nice  ride 
on  her  back ;  I  was  not  afraid,  I  hope  my  uncle  will 
get  me  a  dear  little  pony  and  a  little  cart  very  soon. 

Clifton  did  not  kiss  me  because  he  does  not  like 
to  kiss  little  girls.  He  is  shy.  I  am  very  glad  that 
Frank  and  Clarence  and  Robbie  and  Eddie  and 
Charles  and  George  were  not  very  shy.  I  played 
with  many  little  girls  and  we  had  fun.  I  rode  on 
Carrie's  tricicle  and  picked  flowers  and  ate  fruit, 
and  hopped  and  skipped  and  danced  and  went  to 
ride.  Many  ladies  and  gentlemen  came  to  see  us. 
Lucy  and  Dora  and  Charles  were  born  in  China.  I 
was  born  in  America,  and  Mr.  Anagnos  was  born  in 


M.8\  LETTERS  159 

Greece.  Mr.  Drew  says  little  girls  in  China  cannot 
talk  on  their  fingers  but  I  think  when  I  go  to  China 
I  will  teach  them.  Chinese  nurse  came  to  see  me, 
her  name  was  Asu.  She  showed  me  a  tiny  atze  that 
very  rich  ladies  in  China  wear  because  their  feet 
never  grow  large.  Amah  means  a  nurse.  We 
came  home  in  horse  cars  because  it  was  Sunday  and 
steam  cars  do  not  go  often  on  Sunday.  Conductors 
and  engineers  do  get  very  tired  and  go  home  to  rest. 
I  saw  little  Willie  Swan  in  the  car  and  he  gave  me  a 
juicy  pear.  He  was  six  years  old.  What  did  I  do 
when  I  was  six  years  old  ?  Will  you  please  ask  my 
father  to  come  to  train  to  meet  teacher  and  me? 
I  am  very  sorry  that  Eva  and  Bessie  are  sick.  I 
hope  I  can  have  a  nice  party  my  birthday,  and  I 
do  want  Carrie  and  Ethel  and  Frank  and  Helen  to 
come  to  Alabama  to  visit  me.  Will  Mildred  sleep 
with  me  when  I  come  home. 

With  much  love  and  thousand  kisses. 

From  your  dear  little  daughter. 

HELEN  A.  KELLER. 


Her  visit  to  Plymouth  was  in  July.  This  letter, 
written  three  months  later,  shows  how  well  she 
remembered  her  first  lesson  in  history. 


TO    MR.    MORRISON    HEADY 


South  Boston,  Mass.  October  ist,  1888. 
My  dear  uncle  Morrie, — I  think  you  will  be  very 
glad  to  receive  a  letter  from  your  dear  little  friend 


i6o  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE     [Oct.  i,  '88 

Helen.  I  am  very  happy  to  write  to  you  because  I 
think  of  you  and  love  you.  I  read  pretty  stories  in 
the  book  you  sent  me,  about  Charles  and  his  boat, 
and  Arthur  and  his  dream,  and  Rosa  and  the  sheep. 

I  have  been  in  a  large  boat.  It  was  like  a  ship. 
Mother  and  teacher  and  Mrs.  Hopkins  and  Mr. 
Anagnos  and  Mr.  Rodocanachi  and  many  other 
friends  went  to  Plymouth  to  see  many  old  things.  I 
will  tell  you  a  little  story  about  Plymouth. 

Many  years  ago  there  lived  in  England  many  good 
people,  but  the  king  and  his  friends  were  not  kind 
and  gentle  and  patient  with  good  people,  because 
the  king  did  not  like  to  have  the  people  disobey  him. 
People  did  not  like  to  go  to  church  with  the  king; 
but  they  did  like  to  build  very  nice  little  churches 
for  themselves. 

The  king  was  very  angry  with  the  people  and  they 
were  sorry  and  they  said,  we  will  go  away  to  a  strange 
country  to  live  and  leave  very  dear  home  and  friends 
and  naughty  king.  So,  they  put  all  their  things  into 
big  boxes,  and  said,  Good-bye.  I  am  sorry  for  them 
because  they  cried  much.  When  they  went  to 
Holland  they  did  not  know  anyone ;  and  they  could 
not  know  what  the  people  were  talking  about 
because  they  did  not  know  Dutch.  But  soon  they 
learned  some  Dutch  words ;  but  they  loved  their  own 
language  and  they  did  not  want  little  boys  and  girls 
to  forget  it  and  learn  to  talk  funny  Dutch.  So  they 
said,  We  must  go  to  a  new  country  far  away  and 
build  schools  and  houses  and  churches  and  make 
new  cities.  So  they  put  all  their  things  in  boxes 
and  said,  Good  bye  to  their  new  friends  and  sailed 
away  in  a  large  boat  to  find  a  new  country.  Poor 
people  were  not  happy  for  their  hearts  were  full  of 
sad  thoughts  because  they  did  not  know  much  about 


Aet.8]  LETTERS  161 

America.  I  think  little  children  must  have  been 
afraid  of  a  great  ocean  for  it  is  very  strong  and  it 
makes  a  large  boat  rock  and  then  the  little  children 
would  fall  down  and  hurt  their  heads.  After  they 
had  been  many  weeks  on  the  deep  ocean  where  they 
could  not  see  trees  or  flowers  or  grass,  but  just  water 
and  the  beautiful  sky,  for  ships  could  not  sail  quickly 
then  because  men  did  not  know  about  engines  and 
steam.  One  day  a  dear  little  baby-boy  was  born. 
His  name  was  Peregrine  White.  I  am  very  sorry 
that  poor  little  Peregrine  is  dead  now.  Every  day 
the  people  went  upon  deck  to  look  out  for  land. 
One  day  there  was  a  great  shout  on  the  ship  for  the 
people  saw  the  land  and  they  were  full  of  joy  because 
they  had  reached  a  new  country  safely.  Little 
girls  and  boys  jumped  and  clapped  their  hands. 
They  were  all  glad  when  they  stepped  upon  a  huge 
rock.  I  did  see  the  rock  in  Plymouth  and  a  little 
ship  like  the  Mayflower  and  the  cradle  that  dear 
little  Peregrine  slept  in  and  many  old  things  that 
came  in  the  Mayflower.  Would  you  like  to  visit 
Plymouth  some  time  and  see  many  old  things. 

Now  I  am  very  tired  and  I  will  rest. 

With  much  love  and  many  kisses,  from  your  little 
friend. 

HELEN  A.  KELLER. 


The  foreign  words  in  these  two  letters,  the  first  of 
which  was  written  during  a  visit  to  the  kindergarten 
for  the  blind,  she  had  been  told  months  before,  and 
had  stowed  them  away  in  her  memory.  She 


162  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE    [Oct.  j/,  va 

lated  words  and  practised  with  them,  sometimes 
using  them  intelligently,  sometimes  repeating  them 
in  a  parrot -like  fashion.  Even  when  she  did  not 
fully  understand  words  or  ideas,  she  liked  to  set 
them  down  as  though  she  did.  It  was  in  this  way 
that  she  learned  to  use  correctly  words  of  sound  and 
vision  which  express  ideas  outside  of  her  experience, 
"  Edith  "  is  Edith  Thomas. 


TO    MR.    MICHAEL    ANAGNOS 

ROXBURY,  MASS.  Oct.   i  yth,   1888. 
Mon  dier  Monsieur  Anagnos, 

I  am  sitting  by  the  window  and  the  beautiful 
sun  is  shining  on  me  Teacher  and  I .  came  to 
the  kindergarten  yesterday.  There  are  twenty 
seven  little  children  here  and  they  are  all  blind. 
I  am  sorry  because  they  cannot  see  much. 
Sometime  will  they  have  very  well  eyes?  Poor 
Edith  is  blind  and  deaf  and  dumb.  Are  you  very 
sad  for  Edith  and  me?  Soon  I  shall  go  home 
to  see  my  mother  and  my  father  and  my  dear  good 
and  sweet  little  sister.  I  hope  you  will  come  to 
Alabama  to  visit  me  and  I  will  take  you  to  ride  in 
my  little  cart  and  I  think  you  will  like  to  see  me  on 
my  dear  little  pony's  back.  I  shall  wear  my  lovely 
cap  and  my  new  riding  dress.  If  the  sun  shines 
brightly  I  will  take  you  to  see  Leila  and  Eva  and 
Bessie.  When  I  am  thirteen  }^ears  old  I  am  going 
to  travel  in  many  strange  and  beautiful  countries. 
I  shall  climb  very  high  mountains  in  Norway  and 
see  much  ice  and  snow  I  hope  I  will  not  fall  and 
hurt  my  head  I  shall  visit  little  Lord  Fauntleroy 
in  England  and  he  will  be  glad  to  show  me  his  grand 


A*.  8]  LETTERS  1(53 

and  very  ancient  castle  And  we  will  run  with  the 
deer  and  feed  the  rabbits  and  catch  the  squirrels.  I 
shall  not  be  afraid  of  Fauntleroy's  great  dog  Dougal. 
I  hope  Fauntleroy  take  me  to  see  a  very  kind 
queen.  When  I  go  to  France  I  will  talk  French.  A 
little  French  boy  will  say,  Parlez-vous  Francais?  and 
I  will  say,  Oui,  Monsieur,  vous  avez  un  joli  chapeau. 
Donnez  moi  un  baiser.  I  hope  you  will  go  with  me 
to  Athens  to  see  the  maid  of  Athens.  She  was 
very  lovely  lady  and  I  will  talk  Greek  to  her. 
I  will  say,  se  agapo  and,  pos  echete  and  I  think 
she  will  say,  kalos,  and  then  I  will  say  chaere. 
Will  you  please  come  to  see  me  soon  and  take 
me  to  the  theater?  When  you  come  I  will  say, 
Kale  emera,  and  when  you  go  home  I  will  say,  Kale 
nykta.  Now  I  am  too  tired  to  write  more.  Je  vous 
lime.  Au  revoir 

From  your  darling  little  friend 

HELEN  A.  KELLER. 


TO    MISS    EVELINA    H.    KELLER 

[So.  BOSTON,  Mass.  October  29,  1888.] 
My  dearest  Aunt, — I  am  coming  home  very  soon 
and  I  think  you  and  every  one  will  be  very  glad 
to  see  my  teacher  and  me.  I  am  very  happy  because 
I  have  learned  much  about  many  things.  I  am 
studying  French  and  German  and  Latin  and  Greek. 
Se  agapo  is  Greek,  and  it  means  I  love  thee.  JJai 
une  bonne  petite  sceur  is  French,  and  it  means  I  have  a 
good  little  sister.  Nous  avons  un  bon  pere  et  une 
bonne  mere  means,  w**  have  a  ?ood  father  and  a  good 


i64  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  [Dec.  u,  •& 

mother.  Puer  is  boy  in  Latin,  and  Mutter  is  mother 
in  German.  I  will  teach  Mildred  many  languages 
when  I  come  home. 

HELEN  A.  KELLER. 


TO  MRS.    SOPHIA  C.   HOPKINS 

TUSCUMBIA,  Ala.  Dec.  nth,  1888. 

My  dear  Mrs.  Hopkins : — 

I  have  just  fed  my  dear  little 
pigeon.  My  brother  Simpson  gave  it  to  me 
last  Sunday.  I  named  it  Annie,  for  my  teacher. 
My  puppy  has  had  his  supper  and  gone  to  bed.  My 
rabbits  are  sleeping,  too;  and  very  soon  I  shall  go 
to  bed.  Teacher  is  writing  letters  to  her  friends. 
Mother  and  father  and  their  friends  have  gone  to 
see  a  huge  furnace.  The  furnace  is  to  make  iron. 
The  iron  ore  is  found  in  the  ground ;  but  it  cannot  be 
used  until  it  has  been  brought  to  the  furnace  and 
melted,  and  all  the  dirt  taken  out,  and  just  the  pure 
iron  left.  Then  it  is  all  ready  to  be  manufactured 
into  engines,  stoves,  kettles  and  many  other  things. 

Coal  is  found  in  the  ground,  too.  Many  years  ago, 
before  people  came  to  live  on  the  earth,  great  trees 
and  tall  grasses  and  huge  ferns  and  all  the  beautiful 
flowers  covered  the  earth.  When  the  leaves  and 
the  trees  fell,  the  water  and  the  soil  covered  them ; 
and  then  more  trees  grew  and  fell  also,  and  were 
buried  under  water  and  soil.  After  they  had  all 
been  pressed  together  for  many  thousands  of  years, 
the  wood  grew  very  hard,  like  rock,  and  then  it  was 
all  ready  for  people  to  burn.  Can  you  see  leaves 
and  ferns  and  bark  on  the  coal?  Men  go  down  into 


Aet.8\  LETTERS  165 

the  ground  and  dig  out  the  coal,  and  steam-cars  take 
it  to  the  large  cities,  and  sell  it  to  people  to  burn, 
to  make  them  warm  and  happy  when  it  is  cold  out  of 
doors. 

Are  you  very  lonely  and  sad  now?     I  hope  you 
will  come  to  see  me  soon,  and  stay  a  long  time. 
With  much  love  from  your  little  friend 

HELEN  A.   KELLER. 


TO    MISS    DELLA    BENNETT 

TUSCUMBIA,  ALA.,  Jan.  29,  1889. 

My  dear  Miss  Bennett : — I  am  delighted  to  write 
to  you  this  morning.  We  have  just  eaten  our 
breakfast.  Mildred  is  running  about  downstairs. 
I  have  been  reading  in  my  book  about  astronomers. 
Astronomer  comes  from  the  Latin  word  astra,  which 
means  stars;  and  astronomers  are  men  who  study 
the  stars,  and  tell  us  about  them.  When  we  are 
sleeping  quietly  in  our  beds,  they  are  watching  the 
beautiful  sky  through  the  telescope.  A  telescope 
is  like  a  very  strong  eye.  The  stars  are  so  far  away 
ihat  people  cannot  tell  much  about  them,  without 
very  excellent  instruments.  Do  you  like  to  look  out 
•f  your  window,  and  see  little  stars?  Teacher  says 
she  can  see  Venus  from  our  window,  and  it  is  a  large 
and  beautiful  star.  The  stars  are  called  the  earth's 
brothers  and  sisters. 

There  are  a  great  many  instruments  besides  those 
which  the  astronomers  use.  A  knife  is  an  instru 
ment  to  cut  with.  I  think  the  bell  is  an  instrument, 
I  will  tell  von  what  I  know  about  bells. 


r66  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  [Feb.  „.  *g 

Some  bells  are  musical  and  others  are  unmusical 
Some  are  very  tiny  and  some  are  very  large.  I  saw 
a  very  large  bell  at  Wellesley.  It  came  from  Japan. 
Bells  are  used  for  many  purposes.  They  tell  us 
when  breakfast  is  ready,  when  to  go  to  school, 
when  it  is  time  for  church,  and  when  there  is  a 
(ire.  They  tell  people  when  to  go  to  work,  and 
when  to  go  home  and  rest.  The  engine-bell  tells 
the  passengers  that  they  are  coming  to  a  sta 
tion,  and  it  tells  the  people  to  keep  out  of  the 
way.  Sometimes  very  terrible  accidents  happen, 
and  many  people  are  burned  and  drowned  and 
injured.  The  other  day  I  broke  my  doll's  head  off ; 
but  that  was  not  a  dreadful  accident,  because  dolls 
do  not  live  and  feel,  like  people.  My  little  pigeons 
are  well,  and  so  is  my  little  bird.  I  would  like  to 
have  some  clay.  Teacher  says  it  is  time  for  me  to. 
study  now.  Good-bye. 

With  much  love,  and  many  kisses, 

HELEN  A.  KELLER. 


TO    DR.    EDWARD    EVERETT    HALE 

Tuscumbia,  Alabama,  February  2ist,  1889. 
My  dear  Mr.  Hale, 

I  am  very  much  afraid  that  you  are 
thinking  in  your  mind  that  little  Helen  has  forgotten 
all  about  you  and  her  dear  cousins.  But  I  think 
you  will  be  delighted  to  receive  this  letter  because 
then  you  will  know  that  I  of[ten]  think  about 
you  and  I  love  you  dearly  for  you  are  my  dear  cousin. 
I  have  been  at  home  a  great  many  weeks  now.  I* 


A*.8\  LETTERS  167 

made  me  feel  very  sad  to  leave  Boston  and  I  missed 
all  of  my  friends  greatly,  but  of  course  I  was  glad 
to  get  back  to  my  lovely  home  once  more.  My 
darling  little  sister  is  growing  very  fast.  Sometimes 
she  tries  to  spell  very  short  words  on  her  small 
[fingers]  but  she  is  too  young  to  remember  hard 
words.  When  she  is  older  I  will  teach  her  many 
things  if  she  is  patient  and  obedient.  My  teacher 
says,  if  children  learn  to  be  patient  and  gentle  while 
they  are  little,  that  when  they  grow  to  be  young 
ladies  and  gentlemen  they  will  not  forget  to  be  kind 
and  loving  and  brave.  I  hope  I  shall  be  courageous 
always.  A  little  girl  in  a  story  was  not  courageous. 
She  thought  she  saw  little  elves  with  tall  pointed 
[hats]  peeping  from  between  the  bushes  and  dancing 
down  the  long  alleys,  and  the  poor  little  girl  was 
terrified.  Did  you  have  a  pleasant  Christmas?  I 
had  many  lovely  presents  given  to  me.  The  other 
day  I  had  a  fine  party.  All  of  my  dear  little  friends 
came  to  see  me.  We  played  games,  and  ate  ice 
cream  and  cake  and  fruit.  Then  we  had  great  fun. 
The  sun  is  shining  brightly  to-day  and  I  hope  we 
shall  go  to  ride  if  the  roads  are  dry.  In  a  few  days 
the  beautiful  spring  will  be  here.  I  am  very  glad 
because  I  love  the  warm  sunshine  and  the  fragrant 
flowers.  I  think  Flowers  grow  to  make  people 
happy  and  good.  I  have  four  dolls  now.  Cedric 
is  my  little  boy,  he  is  named  for  Lord  Fauntleroy. 
He  has  big  brown  eyes  and  long  golden  hair  and 
pretty  round  cheeks.  Ida  is  my  baby.  A  lady 
brought  her  to  me  from  Paris.  She  can  drink  milk 
like  a  real  baby.  Lucy  is  a  fine  young  lady.  She 
has  on  a  dainty  lace  dress  and  satin  slippers.  Poor 
old  Nancy  is  growing  old  and  very  feeble.  She  is 


1  68  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 


almost  an  invalid.     I  have  two  tame  pigeons  and 
a  tiny  canary  bird.     Jumbo  is   very  strong  and 
faithful.     He  will  not  let  anything  harm  us  at  night 
I  go  to  school  every  day  I  am  studying  reading, 
writing,  arithmetic,  geography  and  language.     My 
Mother  and  teacher  send  you  and  Mrs.  Hale  their 
kind  greetings  and  Mildred  sends  you  a  kiss. 
With  much  love  and  kisses,  from  your 
Affectionate  cousin 

HELEN  A.  KELLER. 


During  the  winter  Miss  Sullivan  and  her  pupL 
were  working  at  Helen's  home  in  Tuscumbia,  and  tc 
good  purpose,  for  by  spring  Helen  had  learned  t<3 
write  idiomatic  English.  After  May,  1889,  I  fine 
almost  no  inaccuracies,  except  some  evident  slips  o-? 
the  pencil.  She  uses  words  precisely  and  makes 
easy,  fluent  sentences. 


TO   MR.   MICHAEL  ANAGNOS 

TUSCUMBIA,  ALA.,  May  18,   1889. 
My  Dear   Mr.    Anagnos: — You    cannot   imagine 
how  delighted  I  was  to  receive  a  letter  from  yot. 
last  evening.     I  am  very  sorry  that  you  are  going  so 
far  away.     We  shall  miss  you  very,  very  much.     .1. 
would  love  to  visit  many  beautiful  cities  with  you. 
When  I  was  in  Huntsville  I  saw  Dr.  Bryson,  and  ho 
told  me  that  he  had  been  to  Rome  and  Athens  and 
Paris  and  London.     He  had  climbed  the  high  moun 
tains  in  Switzerland  and  visited  beautiful  churches  io 


Act.  8}  LETTERS  169 

Italy  and  France,  and  he  saw  a  great  many  ancient 
castles.  I  hope  you  will  please  write  to  me  from  all 
the  cities  you  visit.  When  you  go  to  Holland  please 
give  my  love  to  the  lovely  princess  Wilhelmina. 
She  is  a  dear  little  girl,  and  when  she  is  old  enough 
she  will  be  the  queen  of  Holland.  If  you  go  to 
Roumania  please  ask  the  good  queen  Elizabeth 
about  her  little  invalid  brother,  and  tell  her  that  I 
am  very  sorry  that  her  darling  little  girl  died.  I 
should  like  to  send  a  kiss  to  Vittorio,  the  little  prince 
of  Naples,  but  teacher  says  she  is  afraid  you  will  not 
remember  so  many  messages.  When  I  am  thirteen 
years  old  I  shall  visit  them  all  myself. 

I  thank  you  very  much  for  the  beautiful  story 
about  Lord  Fauntleroy,  and  so  does  teacher. 

I  am  so  glad  that  Eva  is  coming  to  stay  with  me 
this  summer.  We  will  have  fine  times  together. 
Give  Howard  my  love,  and  tell  him  to  answer  my 
letter.  Thursday  wre  had  a  picnic.  It  was  very 
pleasant  out  in  the  shady  woods,  and  we  all  enjoyed 
the  picnic  very  much. 

Mildred  is  out  in  the  yard  playing,  and  mother  is 
picking  the  delicious  strawberries.  Father  and 
Uncle  Frank  are  down  town.  Simpson  is  coming 
home  soon.  Mildred  and  I  had  our  pictures  taken 
while  we  were  in  Huntsville.  I  will  send  you  one. 

The  roses  have  been  beautiful.  Mother  has  a 
great  many  fine  roses.  The  La  France  and  the 
Lamarque  are  the  most  fragrant ;  but  the  Marechal 
Neil,  Solfaterre,  Jacqueminot,  Nipheots,  Etoile  de 
Lyon,  Papa  Gontier,  Gabrielle  Brevet  and  the  Perle 
des  Jar  dines  are  all  lovely  roses. 

Please  give  the  little  boys  and  girls  my  love.  I 
thank  of  them  every  day  and  I  love  them  dearly  m 


170  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  [May  17,  '£p 

my  heart.  When  you  come  home  from  Europe  I 
hope  you  will  be  all  well  and  very  happy  to  get  home 
again.  Do  not  forget  to  give  my  love  to  Miss  Calliope 
Kehayia  and  Mr.  Francis  Demetrios  Kalopothakes 
Lovingly,  your  little  friend, 

HELEN  ADAMS  KELLER. 


Like  a  good  many  of  Helen  Keller's  early  letters 
this  to  her  French  teacher  is  her  re-phrasing  of  a 
story.  It  shows  how  much  the  gift  of  writing  is,  in 
the  early  stages  of  its  development,  the  gift  o> 
mimicry. 


TO  MISS  FANNIE  S.  MARRETT 

TUSCUMBIA,  ALA.,  May  17,  1889. 
MY  Dear  Miss  Marrett —  I  am  thinking  about 
a  dear  little  girl,  who  wept  very  hard.  She  wept 
because  her  brother  teased  her  very  much.  I  wiT 
tell  you  what  he  did,  and  I  think  you  will  feel  very 
sorry  for  the  little  child.  She  had  a  most  beautifuj 
doll  given  her.  Oh,  it  was  a  lovely  and  delicate  doll1 
but  the  little  girl's  brother,  a  tall  lad,  had  taken  the 
doll,  and  set  it  up  in  a  high  tree  in  the  garden,  and 
had  run  away.  The  little  girl  could  not  reach  the 
doll,  and  could  not  help  it  down,  and  therefore  she 
cried.  The  doll  cried,  too,  and  stretched  out  its  arms 
from  among  the  green  branches,  and  looked  distressed 
Soon  the  dismal  night  would  come — and  was  the  doll 
to  sit  up  in  the  tree  all  night? 


Act.  8\  LETTERS  171 

by  herself?  The  little  girl  could  not  endure  that 
thought.  "I  will  stay  with  you,"  said  she  to  the 
doll,  although  she  was  not  at  all  courageous.  Already 
she  began  to  see  quite  plainly  the  little  elves  in  their 
tall  pointed  hats,  dancing  down  the  dusky  alleys, 
and  peeping  from  between  the  bushes,  and  they 
seemed  to  come  nearer  and  nearer;  and  she  stretched 
her  hands  up  towards  the  tree  in  which  the  doll  sat 
and  they  laughed,  and  pointed  their  fingers  at  her. 
How  terrified  was  the  little  girl;  but  if  one  has 
not  done  anything  wrong,  these  strange  little  elves 
cannot  harm  one.  "Have  I  done  anything  wrong? 
Ah,  yes!"  said  the  little  girl.  "I  have  laughed  at 
the  poor  duck,  with  the  red  rag  tied  round  its  leg. 
It  hobbled,  and  that  made  me  laugh;  but  it  is  wrong 
to  laugh  at  the  poor  animals ! " 

Is  it  not  a  pitiful  story?  I  hope  the  father  pun 
ished  the  naughty  little  boy.  Shall  you  be  very 
glad  to  see  my  teacher  next  Thursday?  She  is 
going  home  to  rest,  but  she  will  come  back  to  me 
next  autumn.. 

Lovingly,  your  little  friend, 

HELEN  ADAMS  KELLER. 


TO    MISS     MARY     E.     RILEY 

TUSCUMBIA,  ALA.,  May  27,  1889. 

My  Dear  Miss  Riley: — I  wish  you  were   here  in 

the  warm,  sunny  south  today.      Little  sister   and   I 

Tvc-uld  take  you  out  into  the  garden,   and   pick  the 

delicious  raspberries  and  a  few  strawberries  for  von. 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  [May 27t>8$ 

How  would  you  like  that?  The  strawberries  are 
nearly  all  gone.  In  the  evening,  when  it  is  cool  and 
pleasant,  we  would  walk  in  the  yard,  and  catch  the 
grasshoppers  and  butterflies.  We  would  talk  about 
the  birds  and  flowers  and  grass  and  Jumbo  and 
Pearl.  If  you  liked,  we  would  run  and  jump  and  hop 
and  dance,  and  be  very  happy.  I  think  you  would 
enjoy  hearing  the  mocking-birds  sing.  One  sits  on 
the  twig  of  a  tree,  just  beneath  our  window,  and  he 
fills  the  air  with  his  glad  songs.  But  I  am  afraid 
you  cannot  come  to  Tuscumbia;  so  I  will  write  to 
you,  and  send  you  a  sweet  kiss  and  my  love.  How 
is  Dick?  Daisy  is  happy,  but  she  would  be  happy 
ever  if  she  had  a  little  mate.  My  little  children  are 
all  well  except  Nancy,  and  she  is  quite  feeble.  My 
grandmother  and  aunt  Corinne  are  here.  Grand 
mother  is  going  to  make  me  two  new  dresses.  Give 
my  love  to  all  the  little  girls,  and  tell  them  that 
Helen  loves  them  very,  very  much.  Eva  sends  love 
to  all. 

With  much  love  and  many  kisses,  from  your  affec 
tionate  little  friend, 

HELEN  ADAMS  KELLER. 


During  the  summer  Miss  Sullivan  was  away  from 
Helen  for  three  months  and  a  half,  the  first  separa 
tion  of  teacher  and  pupil.  Only  once  afterward  in 
fifteen  years  was  their  constant  companionship 
broken  for  more  than  a  few  days  at  a  time. 


LETTERS  173 

TO    MISS   ANNE    MANSFIELD    SULLIVAN 


TUSCUMBIA,  ALA.,  August  7, 
Dearest  Teacher — I  am  very  glad  to  write  to 
you  this  evening,  for  I  have  been  thinking  much 
about  you  all  day.  I  am  sitting  on  the  piazza,  and 
my  little  white  pigeon  is  perched  on  the  back  of  my 
chair,  watching  me  write.  Her  little  brown  mate  has 
flown  away  with  the  other  birds ;  but  Annie  is  not  sad, 
for  she  likes  to  stay  with  me.  Fauntleroy  is  asleep 
upstairs,  and  Nancy  is  putting  Lucy  to  bed.  Perhaps 
the  mocking  bird  is  singing  them  to  sleep.  All  the 
beautiful  flowers  are  in  bloom  now.  The  air  is  sweet 
With  the  perfume  of  jasmines,  heliotropes  and  roses, 
It  is  getting  warm  here  now,  so  father  is  going  to 
take  us  to  the  Quarry  on  the  2oth  of  August.  I 
think  we  shall  have  a  beautiful  time  out  in  the  cool, 
pleasant  woods.  I  will  write  and  tell  you  all  the 
pleasant  things  we  do.  I  am  so  glad  that  Lester 
and  Henry  are  good  little  infants.  Give  them  many 
sweet  kisses  for  me. 

What  was  the  name  of  the  little  boy  who  fell  in 
love  with  the  beautiful  star?  Eva  has  been  telling 
me  a  story  about  a  lovely  little  girl  named  Heidi. 
Will  you  please  send  it  to  me  ?  I  shall  be  delighted 
to  have  a  typewriter. 

Little  Arthur  is  growing  very  fast.  He  has  on 
short  dresses  now.  Cousin  Leila  thinks  he  will  walk 
in  a  little  while.  Then  I  will  take  his  soft  chubby 
hand  in  mine,  and  go  out  in  the  bright  sunshine  with 
him.  He  will  pull  the  largest  roses,  and  chase  the 
gayest  butterflies.  I  will  take  very  good  care  of 
him,  and  not  let  him  fall  and  hurt  himself.  Father 
and  some  other  gentlemen  went  hunting  yesterday. 


174  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE    [Aug.  7,^ 

Father  killed  thirty-eight  birds.  We  had  some  of 
them  for  supper,  and  they  were  very  nice.  Last 
Monday  Simpson  shot  a  pretty  crane.  The  crane  is 
a  large  and  strong  bird.  His  wings  are  as  long  as 
my  arm,  and  his  bill  is  as  long  as  my  foot.  He  eats 
little  fishes,  and  other  small  animals.  Father  says 
he  can  fly  nearly  all  day  without  stopping. 

Mildred  is  the  dearest  and  sweetest  little  maiden  in 
the  world.  She  is  very  roguish,  too.  Sometimes, 
when  mother  does  not  know  it,  she  goes  out  into 
the  vineyard,  and  gets  her  apron  full  of  delicious 
grapes.  I  think  she  would  like  to  put  her  two 
soft  arms  around  your  neck  and  hug  you. 

Sunday  I  went  to  church.  I  love  to  go  to  entirely 
because  I  like  to  see  my  friends. 

A  gentleman  gave  me  a  beautiful  card.  It  was  a 
picture  of  a  mill,  near  a  beautiful  brook.  There  was 
a  boat  floating  on  the  water,  and  the  fragrant  lilies 
were  growing  all  around  the  boat.  Not  far  from 
the  mill  there  was  an  old  house,  with  many  trees 
growing  close  to  it.  There  were  eight  pigeons  on  the 
roof  of  the  house,  and  a  great  dog  on  the  step. 
Pearl  is  a  very  proud  mother-dog  now.  She  has 
eight  puppies,  and  she  thinks  there  never  were  such 
fine  puppies  as  hers. 

I  read  in  my  books  every  day.  I  love  them  very, 
very,  very  much.  I  do  want  you  to  come  back  to 
me  soon.  I  miss  you  so  very,  very  much.  I  cannot 
know  about  many  things,  when  my  dear  teacher  is 
not  here.  I  send  you  five  thousand  kisses,  and  more 
love  than  I  can  tell.  I  send  Mrs.  H.  much  love  and 
a  kiss. 

From  your  affectionate  little  pupil, 

HELEN  A.  KELLER 


Aet.g]  LETTERS  175 

In  the  fall  Helen  and  Miss  Sullivan  returned  to 
Perkins  Institution  at  South  Boston. 


TO  MISS   MILDRED  KELLER 

SOUTH  BOSTON,  Oct.  24,  1889. 

My  Precious  Little  Sister: — Good  morning.  I 
am  going  to  send  you  a  birthday  gift  with  this  letter. 
I  hope  it  will  please  you  very  much,  because  it  makes 
me  happy  to  send  it.  The  dress  is  blue  like  your 
eyes,  and  candy  is  sweet  just  like  your  dear  little 
self.  I  think  mother  will  be  glad  to  make  the  dress 
for  you,  and  when  you  wear  it  you  will  look  as  pretty 
as  a  rose.  The  picture-book  will  tell  you  all  about 
many  strange  and  wild  animals.  You  must  not  be 
afraid  of  them.  They  cannot  come  out  of  the  picture 
to  harm  you. 

I  go  to  school  every  day,  and  I  learn  many  new 
things.  At  eight  I  study  arithmetic.  I  like  that. 
At  nine  I  go  to  the  gymnasium  with  the  little  girls 
and  we  have  great  fun.  I  wish  you  could  be  here  to 
play  three  little  squirrels,  and  two  gentle  doves, 
and  to  make  a  pretty  nest  for  a  dear  little  robin. 
The  mocking  bird  does  not  live  in  the  cold  north. 
At  ten  I  study  about  the  earth  on  which  we  airiive. 
At  eleven  I  talk  with  teacher  and  at  twelve  I  study 
zoology.  I  do  not  know  what  I  shall  do  in  the  after 
noon  yet. 

Now,  my  darling  little  Mildred,  good  bye.  Give 
father  and  mother  a  great  deal  of  love  and  many 
hugs  and  kisses  for  me.  Teacher  sends  her  love  too. 

From  your  loving  sister, 

HELEN  A.  KELLER. 


r;6  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  [Nov.  20,  >89 

TO   MR.   WILLIAM   WADE 

SOUTH  BOSTON,  Mass.,  Nov.  20,  1889. 

My  Dear  Mr.  Wade:— I  have  just  received  a 
letter  from  my  mother,  telling  me  that  the  beautiful 
mastiff  puppy  you  sent  me  had  arrived  in  Tuscumbia 
safely.  Thank  you  very  much  for  the  nice  gift.  I 
am  very  sorry  that  I  was  not  at  home  to  welcome 
her;  but  my  mother  and  my  baby  sister  will  be  very 
kind  to  her  while  her  mistress  is  away.  I  hope  she 
is  not  lonely  and  unhappy.  I  think  puppies  can  feel 
very  home-sick,  as  well  as  little  girls.  I  should  like 
to  call  her  Lioness,  for  your  dog.  May  I  ?  I  hope 
she  will  be  very  faithful, — and  brave,  too. 

I  am  studying  in  Boston,  with  my  dear  teacher. 
I  learn  a  great  many  new  and  wonderful  things.  I 
study  about  the  earth,  and  the  animals,  and  I  like 
arithmetic  exceedingly.  I  learn  many  new  words, 
too.  Exceedingly  is  one  that  I  learned  yesterday. 
When  I  see  Lioness  I  will  tell  her  many  things 
which  will  surprise  her  greatly.  I  think  she  will 
laugh  when  I  tell  her  she  is  a  vertebrate,  a  mammal, 
a  quadruped ;  and  I  shall  be  very  sorry  to  tell  her  that 
she  belongs  to  the  order  Camivora.  I  study  French, 
too.  When  I  talk  French  to  Lioness  I  will  call  her 
mon  beau  chien.  Please  tell  Lion  that  I  will  take 
good  care  of  Lioness.  I  shall  be  happy  to  have  a 
letter  from  you  when  you  like  to  write  to  me. 
From  your  loving  little  friend, 

HELEN  A.  KELLER. 

P.  S.     I  am  studying  at  the  Institution  for  the 
Blind.  H,  A.  K. 


*.?}  LETTERS  177 

This  letter  is  indorsed  in  Whittier's  hand,  "Helen 
.  Keller — deaf  dumb  and  blind — aged  nine  years.** 
Browns"  is  a  lapse  of  the  pencil  for  "brown  eyes/' 


TO  JOHN   GREENLEAF   WHITTI&R 

INST.  FOR  THE  BLIND,  So.  BOSTON,  Mass., 

Nov.  27,  i ; 

Dear  Poet, 

I  think  you  will  be  surprised  to 
receive  a  letter  from  a  little  girl  whom  you  do  not 
know,  but  I  thought  you  would  be  glad  to  hear 
that  your  beautiful  poems  make  me  very  happy. 
Yesterday  I  read  " In  School  Days"  and  "My  Play 
mate,"  and  I  enjoyed  them  greatly.  J  was  very 
sorry  that  the  poor  little  girl  with  the  browns  and 
the  "  tangled  golden  curls  "  died.  It  is  very  pleasant 
to  live  here  in  our  beautiful  world.  I  cannot  see  the 
lovely  things  with  my  eyes,  but  my  mind  can  see 
them  all,  and  so  I  am  joyful  all  the  day  long. 

When  I  walk  out  in  rny  garden  I  cannot  see  the 
beautiful  flowers  but  I  know  that  they  are  all 
around  me;  for  is  not  the  air  sweet  with  their  fra 
grance?  I  know  too  that  the  tiny  lily-bells  are 
whispering  pretty  secrets  to  their  companions  eke 
they  would  not  look  so  happy.  I  love  you  vsry 
dearly,  because  you  have  taught  me  so  many  lovely 
things  about  flowers,  and  birds,  and  people.  Now 
I  must  say,  good-bye.  I  hope  [you]  will  enjoy  the 
Thanksgiving  very  much. 

From  your  loving  little  friend, 

HELEN  A.  KELLER, 
To  Mr.  John  Greenleaf  Whittier, 


178  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE    [£^.3,% 

Whittier's  reply,  to  which  there  is  a  reference  in 
the  following  letter,  has  been  lost. 


TO   MRS.    KATE   ADAMS   KELLER 

SOUTH  BOSTON,  Mass.,  Dec.  3,  1889. 

My  Dear  Mother: — Your  little  daughter  is  very 
happy  to  write  to  you  this  beautiful  morning.  It 
is  cold  and  rainy  here  to-day.  Yesterday  the 
Countess  of  Meath  came  again  to  see  me.  She  gave 
me  a  beautiful  bunch  of  violets.  Her  little  girls  are 
named  Violet  and  May.  The  Earl  said  he  should 
be  delighted  to  visit  Tuscumbia  the  next  time  he 
comes  to  America.  Lady  Meath  said  she  would 
like  to  see  your  flowers,  and  hear  the  mocking-birds 
sing.  When  I  visit  England  they  want  me  to  come 
to  see  them,  and  stay  a  few  weeks.  They  will  take 
me  to  see  the  Queen. 

I  had  a  lovely  letter  from  the  poet  Whittier.  He 
loves  me.  Mr.  Wade  wants  teacher  and  me  to 
come  and  see  him  next  spring.  May  we  go  ?  He 
said  you  must  feed  Lioness  from  your  hand, 
because  she  will  be  more  gentle  if  she  does  not  eat 
with  other  dogs. 

Mr.  Wilson  came  to  call  on  us  one  Thursday.  I 
was  delighted  to  receive  the  flowers  from  home. 
They  came  while  we  were  eating  breakfast,  and  my 
friends  enjoyed  them  with  me.  We  had  a  very  nice 
dinner  on  Thanksgiving  day, — turkey  and  plum- 
pudding.  Last  week  I  visited  a  beautiful  art  store, 
I  saw  a  great  many  statues,  and  the  gentleman  gav® 
me  an  angel. 

Sunday  I  went  to  church  on  board  a  great  war 
ship.  After  the  services  were  over  the  soldier- 


Aet.p]  LETTERS  179 

tailors  showed  us  around.  There  were  four  hundred 
and  sixty  sailors.  They  were  very  kind  to  me. 
One  carried  me  in  his  arms  so  that  my  feet  would 
not  touch  the  water.  They  wore  blue  uniforms 
and  queer  little  caps.  There  was  a  terrible  fire 
Thursday.  Many  stores  were  burned,  and  four  men 
were  killed.  I  am  very  sorry  for  them.  Tell  father, 
please,  to  write  to  me.  How  is  dear  little  sister? 
Give  her  many  kisses  for  me.  Now  I  must  close. 
With  much  love,  from  your  darling  child, 

HELEN  A.  KELLER. 


TO    MRS.    KATE    ADAMS    KELLER 

So.  BOSTON,  MASS.,  Dec.  24,  1889. 

My  dear  Mother, 

Yesterday  i  sent  you  a  little  Christ 
mas  box.  I  am  very  sorry  that  I  could  not  send 
it  before  so  that  you  would  receive  it  to  morrow, 
but  I  could  not  finish  the  watch-case  any  sooner. 
I  made  all  of  the  gifts  myself,  excepting  father's 
handkerchief.  I  wish  I  could  have  made  father  a 
gift  too,  but  I  did  not  have  sufficient  time.  I  hope 
you  will  like  your  watch-case,  for  it  made  me  very 
happy  to  make  it  for  you.  You  must  keep  your 
lovely  new  montre  in  it.  If  it  is  too  warm  in 
Tuscumbia  for  little  sister  to  wear  her  pretty 
mittens,  she  can  keep  them  because  her  sister  made 
them  for  her.  I  imagine  she  will  have  fun  with  the 
little  toy  man.  Tell  her  to  shake  him,  and  then  he 
will  blow  his  trumpet.  I  thank  my  dear  kind  father 
for  sending  me  some  money,  to  buy  gifts  for  my 


i8o  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  [D«r.  24,  'S$ 

friends.  I  love  to  make  everybody  happy.  I 
should  like  to  be  at  home  on  Christmas  day.  We 
would  be  very  happy  together.  I  think  of  my 
beautiful  home  every  day.  Please  do  not  forget  to 
send  me  some  pretty  presents  to  hang  on  my  tree. 
I  am  going  to  have  a  Christmas  tree,  in  the  parlor 
and  teacher  will  hang  all  of  my  gifts  upon  it.  It 
will  be  a  funny  tree.  All  of  the  girls  have  gone  home 
to  spend  Christmas  Teacher  and  I  are  the  only 
babies  left  for  Mrs.  Hopkins  to  care  for.  Teacher 
has  been  sick  in  bed  for  many  days.  Her  throat 
was  very  sore  and  the  doctor  thought  she  would 
have  to  go  away  to  the  hospital,  but  she  is  better 
now.  I  have  not  been  sick  at  all.  The  little  girls 
are  well  too.  Friday  I  am  going  to  spend  the  day 
with  my  little  friends  Carrie,  Ethel,  Frank  and  Helen 
Freeman.  We  will  have  great  fun  I  am  sure. 

Mr.  and  Miss  Endicott  came  to  see  me,  and  I  went 
to  ride  in  the  carriage.  They  are  going  to  give  me 
a  lovely  present,  but  I  cannot  guess  what  it  will  be. 
Sammy  has  a  dear  new  brother.  He  is  very  soft 
and  delicate  yet.  Mr.  Anagnos  is  in  Athens  now 
He  is  delighted  because  I  am  here.  Now  I  must 
say,  good-bye.  I  hope  I  have  written  my  letter 
nicely,  but  it  is  very  difficult  to  write  on  this  paper 
and  teacher  is  not  here  to  give  me  better.  Give 
many  kisses  to  little  sister  and  much  love  to  all 
Loringly  HELEN. 


Aet.  p]  LETTERS  i8w 

TO   DR.   EDWARD    EVERETT   HALE 

SOUTH  BOSTON,  Jan.  8,  1890. 
My  dear  Mr.  Hale: 

The  beautiful  shells  came  last  night. 
I  thank  you  very  much  for  them.  I  shall  always 
keep  them,  and  it  will  make  me  very  happy  to 
think  that  you  found  them,  on  that  far  away 
island,  from  which  Columbus  sailed  to  discover 
our  dear  country.  When  I  am  eleven  years  old  it 
will  be  four  hundred  years  since  he  started  with  the 
three  small  ships  to  cross  the  great  strange  ocean. 
He  was  very  brave.  The  little  girls  were  delighted 
to  see  the  lovely  shells.  I  told  them  all  I  knew 
about  them.  Are  you  very  glad  that  you  could 
make  so  many  happy?  I  am.  I  should  be  very 
happy  to  come  and  teach  you  the  Braille  sometime, 
if  you  have  time  to  learn,  but  I  am  afraid  you  are 
too  busy.  A  few  days  ago  I  received  a  little  box 
of  English  violets  from  Lady  Meath.  The  flowers 
were  wilted,  but  the  kind  thought  which  came  with 
them  was  as  sweet  and  as  fresh  as  newly  pulled 
Violets. 

With  loving  greeting  to  the  little  cousins,  and 
Mrs.  Hale  and  a  sweet  kiss  for  yourself, 
From  your  little  friend, 

HELEN  A.  KELLER. 


This,  the  first  of  Helen's  letters  to  Dr.  Holmes, 
written  soon  after  a  visit  to  him,  he  published  in 
"Over  the  Teacups." 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  [March  /, 

TO  DR.  OLIVER  WENDELL  HOLMES* 


SOUTH  BOSTON,  MASS.,  March  i,  1890. 

Dear,  Kind  Poet:  —  I  have  thought  of  you  many 
times  since  that  bright  Sunday  when  I  bade  you 
good-bye;  and  I  am  going  to  write  you  a  letter, 
because  I  love  you.  I  am  sorry  that  you  have  no 
little  children  to  play  with  you  sometimes;  but  I 
think  you  are  very  happy  with  your  books,  and  your 
many,  many  friends.  On  Washington's  birthday  a 
great  many  people  came  here  to  see  the  blind  chil 
dren;  and  I  read  for  them  from  your  poems,  and 
showed  them  some  beautiful  shells,  which  came  from 
a  little  island  near  Palos. 

1  am  reading  a  very  sad  story,  called  "Little 
Jakey."  Jakey  was  the  sweetest  little  fellow  you 
can  imagine,  but  he  was  poor  and  blind.  I  used  to 
think  —  when  I  was  small,  and  before  I  could  read  — 
that  everybody  was  always  happy,  and  at  first  it 
made  me  very  sad  to  know  about  pain  and  great 
sorrow;  but  now  I  know  that  we  could  never  learn 
to  be  brave  and  patient,  if  there  were  only  joy  in  the 
world. 

I  am  studying  about  insects  in  zoology,  and  I  have 
learned  many  things  about  butterflies.  They  do  not 
make  honey  for  us,  like  the  bees,  but  many  of  them 
are  as  beautiful  as  the  flowers  they  light  upon,  and 
they  always  delight  the  hearts  of  little  children. 
They  live  a  gay  life,  flitting  from  flower  to  flower, 
sipping  the  drops  of  honeydew,  without  a  thought 
for  the  morrow.  They  are  just  like  little  boys  and 
girls  when  they  forget  books  and  studies,  and  run 
away  to  the  woods  and  the  fields,  to  gather  wild 

*  The  Atlantic  Monthly,  May,  1890.  By  permission  of 
Messrs.  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co. 


Ad.g\  LETTERS  '183 

flowers,  or  wade  in  the  ponds  for  fragrant  lilies, 
happy  in  the  bright  sunshine. 

If  my  little  sister  comes  to  Boston  next  June,  will 
you  let  me  bring  her  to  see  you?  She  is  a  lovely 
baby,  and  I  am  sure  you  will  love  her. 

Now  I  must  tell  my  gentle  poet  good-bye,  for  I 
have  a  letter  to  write  home  before  I  go  to  bed. 

From  your  loving  little  friend, 
HELEN  A.  KELLER. 


TO   MISS   SARAH  FULLER* 

SOUTH  BOSTON,  MASS.,  April  3,  1890. 
My  dear  Miss  Fuller, 

My  heart  is  full  of  joy  this  beautiful 
morning,  because  I  have  learned  to  speak  many 
new  words,  and  I  can  make  a  few  sentences.  Last 
evening  I  went  out  in  the  yard  and  spoke  to  the 
moon.  I  said,  "O!  moon  come  to  me!"  Do  you 
think  the  lovely  moon  was  glad  that  I  could  speak  to 
her?  How  glad  my  mother  will  be.  I  can  hardly 
wait  for  June  to  come  I  am  so  eager  to  speak  to  her 
and  to  my  precious  little  sister.  Mildred  could  not 
understand  me  when  I  spelled  with  my  fingers,  but 
now  she  will  sit  in  my  lap  and  I  will  tell  her  many 
things  to  please  her,  and  we  shall  be  so  happy 
together.  Are  you  very,  very  happy  because  you 
can  make  so  many  people  happy?  I  think  you  are 
very  kind  and  patient,  and  I  love  you  very  dearly. 
My  teacher  told  me  Tuesday  that  you  wanted  to 

*Miss  Fuller  gave  Helen  Keller  her  first  lesson  in  articulation.     For 
an  account  of  this  see  page  386. 


i84  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE    [April 3,'9* 

know  how  I  came  to  wish  to  talk  with  my  mouth.  I 
will  tell  you  all  about  it,  for  I  remember  my  thoughts 
perfectly.  When  I  was  a  very  little  child  I  used  to 
sit  in  my  mother's  lap  all  the  time,  because  I  was 
very  timid,  and  did  not  like  to  be  left  by  myself. 
And  I  would  keep  my  little  hand  on  her  face  all  the 
while,  because  it  amused  me  to  feel  her  face  and  lips 
move  when  she  talked  with  people.  I  did  not  know 
then  what  she  was  doing,  for  I  was  quite  ignorant  of 
all  things.  Then  when  I  was  older  I  learned  to  play 
with  my  nurse  and  the  little  negro  children  and  I 
noticed  that  they  kept  moving  their  lips  just  like 
my  mother,  so  I  moved  mine  too,  but  sometimes  it 
made  me  angry  and  I  would  hold  my  playmates' 
mouths  very  hard.  I  did  not  know  then  that  it  was 
very  naughty  to  do  so.  After  a  long  time  my  dear 
teacher  came  to  me,  and  taught  me  to  communicate 
with  my  fingers  and  I  was  satisfied  and  happy.  But 
when  I  came  to  school  in  Boston  I  met  some  deaf 
people  who  talked  with  their  mouths  like  all  other 
people,  and  one  day  a  lady  who  had  been  to  Norway 
came  to  see  me,  and  told  me  of  a  blind  and  deaf  girl* 
she  had  seen  in  that  far  away  land  who  had  been 
taught  to  speak  and  understand  others  when  they 
spoke  to  her.  This  good  and  happy  news  delighted 
me  exceedingly,  for  then  I  was  sure  that  I  should 
learn  also.  I  tried  to  make  sounds  like  my  little 
playmates,  but  teacher  told  me  that  the  voice  was 
very  delicate  and  sensitive  and  that  it  would  injure 
it  to  make  incorrect  sounds,  and  promised  to  take 
me  to  see  a  kind  and  wise  lady  who  would  teach  me 
rightly.  That  lady  was  yourself.  Now  I  am  as 
happy  as  the  little  birds,  because  I  can  sqeak  and 
*  Ragnhild  Kaata. 


Aet.  10]  LETTERS  185 

perhaps  I  shall  sing  too.    All  of  my  friends  will 
be  so  surprised  and  glad. 

Your  loving  little  pupil, 

HELEN  A.  KELLER. 


When  the  Perkins  Institution  closed  for  the  sum 
mer,  Helen  and  Miss  Sullivan  went  to  Tuscumbia. 
This  was  the  first  home-going  after  she  had  learned 
to  "talk  with  her  mouth." 


TO  REV.   PHILLIPS  BROOKS 

TUSCUMBIA,  ALABAMA,  July  14,  1890. 
My  dear  Mr.  Brooks,  I  am  very  glad  to  write 
to  you  this,  beautiful  day  because  you  are  my 
kind  friend  and  I  love  you,  and  because  I  wish  to 
know  many  things.  I  have  been  at  home  three 
weeks,  and  Oh,  how  happy  I  have  been  with  dear 
mother  and  father  and  precious  little  sister.  I  was 
very,  very  sad  to  part  with  all  of  my  friends  in 
Boston,  but  I  was  so  eager  to  see  my  baby  sister  I 
could  hardly  wait  for  the  train  to  take  me  home. 
But  I  tried  very  hard  to  be  patient  for  teacher's 
sake.  Mildred  has  grown  much  taller  and  stronger 
than  she  was  when  I  went  to  Boston,  and  she  is  the 
sweetest  and  dearest  little  child  in  the  world.  My 
parents  were  delighted  to  hear  me  speak,  and  I  was 
overjoyed  to  give  them  such  a  happy  surprise.  I 
think  it  is  so  pleasant  to  make  everybody  happy. 
Why  does  the  dear  Father  hi  heaven  think  it  best 
for  us  to  have  very  great  sorrow  sometimes?  I  am 


z86  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  {July  14,  > 

always  happy  and  so  was  Little  Lord  Fauntleroy, 
but  dear  Little  Jakey's  life  was  full  of  sadness.  God 
did  not  put  the  light  in  Jakey's  eyes  and  he  was 
blind,  and  his  father  was  not  gentle  and  loving.  Do 
you  think  poor  Jakey  loved  his  Father  in  heaven 
more  because  his  other  father  was  unkind  to  him? 
How  did  God  tell  people  that  his  home  was  in 
heaven?  When  people  do  very  wrong  and  hurt 
animals  and  treat  children  unkindly  God  is  grieved, 
but  what  will  he  do  to  them  to  teach  them  to  be 
pitiful  and  loving?  I  think  he  will  tell  them  how 
dearly  He  loves  them  and  that  He  wants  them  to  be 
good  and  happy,  and  they  will  not  wish  to  grieve 
their  father  who  loves  them  so  much,  and  they  will 
want  to  please  him  in  everything  they  do,  so  they 
will  love  each  other  and  do  good  to  everyone,  and 
be  kind  to  animals. 

Please  tell  me  something  that  you  know  about 
God.  It  makes  me  happy  to  know  much  about  my 
loving  Father,  who  is  good  and  wise.  I  hope  you 
will  write  to  your  little  friend  when  you  have  time. 
I  should  like  very  much  to  see  you  today  Is  the 
sun  very  hot  in  Boston  now?  this  afternoon  if  it  is 
cool  enough  I  shall  take  Mildred  for  a  ride  on  my 
donkey.  Mr.  Wade  sent  Neddy  to  me,  and  he  is 
the  prettiest  donkey  you  can  imagine.  My  great 
dog  Lioness  goes  with  us  when  we  ride  to  protect 
us.  Simpson,  that  is  my  brother,  brought  me  some 
beautiful  pond  lilies  yesterday — he  is  a  very  brother 
to  me. 

Teacher  sends  you  her  kind  remembrances,  and 
father  and  mother  also  send  their  regards. 
From  your  loving  little  friend, 

HELEN  A-  KELLER 


Aet.  id]  LETTERS  187 

DR.    BROOKS'S    REPLY 

LONDON,  August  3,  1890. 

My  Dear  Helen — I  was  very  glad  indeed  to  get 
your  letter.  It  has  followed  me  across  the  ocean^ 
and  found  me  in  this  magnificent  great  city  which 
I  should  like  to  tell  you  all  about  if  I  could  take  time 
for  it  and  make  my  letter  long  enough.  Some 
time  when  you  come  and  see  me  in  my  study  in 
Boston  I  shall  be  glad  to  talk  to  you  about  it  all  if 
you  care  to  hear. 

But  now  I  want  to  tell  you  how  glad  I  am  that  you 
are  so  happy  and  enjoying  your  home  so  very  much. 
I  can  almost  think  I  see  you  with  your  father  and 
mother  and  little  sister,  with  all  the  brightness  of 
the  beautiful  country  about  you,  and  it  makes  me 
very  glad  to  know  how  glad  you  are. 

I  am  glad  also  to  know,  from  the  questions  which 
you  ask  me,  what  you  are  thinking  about.  I  do  not 
see  how  we  can  help  thinking  about  God  when  He 
is  so  good  to  us  all  the  time.  Let  me  tell  you  how  it 
seems  to  me  that  we  come  to  know  about  our 
heavenly  Father.  It  is  from  the  power  of  love 
which  is  in  our  own  hearts.  Love  is  at  the  soul  of 
everything.  Whatever  has  not  the  power  of  loving 
must  have  a  very  dreary  life  indeed.  We  like  to 
think  that  the  sunshine  and  the  winds  and  the  trees 
are  able  to  love  in  some  way  of  their  own,  for  it 
would  make  us  know  that  they  were  happy  if  we 
knew  that  they  could  love.  And  so  God  who  is  the 
greatest  and  happiest  of  all  beings  is  the  most 
loving  too.  All  the  love  that  is  in  our  hearts 
comes  from  him,  as  all  the  light  which  is  in  the 
flowers  comes  from  the  sun.  And  the  more  we  love 
the  more  near  we  are  to  God  and  His  Love. 


i88  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE    [Aug.  s^y* 

I  told  you  that  I  was  very  happy  because  of  your 
happiness.  Indeed  I  am.  So  are  your  Father  and 
your  Mother  and  your  Teacher  and  all  your  friends. 
But  do  you  not  think  that  God  is  happy  too  because 
you  are  happy?  I  am  sure  He  is.  And  He  is 
happier  than  any  of  us  because  He  is  greater  than 
any  of  us,  and  also  because  He  not  merely  sees  your 
happiness  as  we  do,  but  He  also  made  it.  He 
gives  it  to  you  as  the  sun  gives  light  and  color 
to  the  rose.  And  we  are  always  most  glad  of  what 
we  not  merely  see  our  friends  enjoy,  but  of  what  we 
give  them  to  enjoy.  Are  we  not  ? 

But  God  does  not  only  want  us  to  be  happy;  He 
wants  us  to  be  good.  He  wants  that  most  of  all. 
He  knows  that  we  can  be  really  happy  only  when  we 
are  good.  A  great  deal  of  the  trouble  that  is  in  the 
world  is  medicine  which  is  very  bad  to  take,  but 
which  it  is  good  to  take  because  it  makes  us  better. 
We  see  how  good  people  may  be  in  great  trouble 
when  we  think  of  Jesus  who  was  the  greatest 
sufferer  that  ever  lived  and  yet  was  the  best  Being 
and  so,  I  am  sure,  the  happiest  Being  that  the  world 
has  ever  seen. 

I  love  to  tell  you  about  God.  But  He  will  tell  you 
Himself  by  the  love  which  He  will  put  into  your 
heart  if  you  ask  Him.  And  Jesus,  who  is  His  Son, 
but  is  nearer  to  Him  than  all  of  us  His  other 
Children,  came  into  the  world  on  purpose  to  tell 
us  all  about  our  Father's  Love.  If  you  read  His 
words,  you  will  see  how  full  His  heart  is  of  the  love 
of  God.  "We  know  that  He  loves  us,"  He  says. 
And  so  He  loved  men  Himself  and  though  they 
were  very  cruel  to  Him  and  at  last  killed  Him,  He 
willing  to  die  for  them  because  He  loved  them 


*«.  joj  LETTERS  189 

so.     And,  Helen,  He  loves  men  still,  and  He  loves 
us,  and  He  tells  us  that  we  may  love  Him. 

And  so  love  is  everything.  And  if  anybody  askf 
you,  or  if  you  ask  yourself  what  God  is,  answer, 
"  God  is  Love."  That  is  the  beautiful  answer  which 
the  Bible  gives. 

All  this  is  what  you  are  to  think  of  and  to  under 
stand  more  and  more  as  you  grow  older.  Think  of 
it  now,  and  let  it  make  every  blessing  brighter 
because  your  dear  Father  sends  it  to  you. 

You  will  come  back  to  Boston  I  hope  soon  after 
I  do.  I  shall  be  there  by  the  middle  of  September. 
I  shall  want  you  to  tell  me  all  about  everything,  and 
not  forget  the  Donkey. 

I  send  my  kind  remembrance  to  your  father  and 
mother,  and  to  your  teacher.  I  wish  I  could  see 
your  little  sister. 

Good  Bye,  dear  Helen.      Do  write  to  me  soon 
again,  directing  your  letter  to  Boston. 
Your  affectionate  friend 

PHILLIPS  BROOKS. 


DR.   HOLMES'S   REPLY 

To  a  letter  which  has  been  lost. 

BEVERLY  FARMS,  MASS.,  August  i,  1890. 
My  Dear  Little  Friend  Helen: 

I  received  your  welcome  letter  several  days  ago, 
but  I  have  so  much  writing  to  do  that  I  am  apt  to 
make  my  letters  wait  a  good  while  before  they  get 
answered. 

It  gratifies  me  very  much  to  find  that  you  remenv 


i9o  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

ber  me  so  kindly.  Your  letter  is  charming,  and  I 
am  greatly  pleased  with  it.  I  rejoice  to  know  that 
you  are  well  and  happy.  I  am  very  much  delighted 
to  hear  of  your  new  acquisition — that  you  "talk 
with  your  mouth"  as  well  as  with  your  fingers. 
What  a  curious  thing  speech  is  !  The  tongue  is  so 
serviceable  a  member  (taking  all  sorts  of  shapes, 
just  as  is  wanted), — the  teeth,  the  lips,  the  roof  of 
the  mouth,  all  ready  to  help,  and  so  heap  up  the 
sound  of  the  voice  into  the  solid  bits  which  we  cal? 
consonants,  and  make  room  for  the  curiously  shaped 
breathings  which  we  call  vowels  !  You  have  studied 
all  this,  I  don't  doubt,  since  you  have  practised  vocal 
speaking. 

I  am  surprised  at  the  mastery  of  language  which 
cour  letter  shows.  It  almost  makes  me  think  the 
world  would  get  along  as  well  without  seeing  and 
hearing  as  with  them.  Perhaps  people  would  be 
better  in  a  great  many  ways,  for  they  could  not  fight 
as  they  do  now.  Just  think  of  an  army  of  blind 
people,  with  guns  and  cannon !  Think  of  the  poor 
drummers  !  Of  what  use  would  they  and  their  drum 
sticks  be  ?  You  are  spared  the  pain  of  many  sights 
and  sounds,  which  you  are  only  too  happy  in  escaping. 
Then  think  how  much  kindness  you  are  sure  of  as 
long  as  you  live.  Everybody  will  feel  an  interest  in 
dear  little  Helen;  everybody  will  want  to  do  some 
thing  for  her ;  and,  if  she  becomes  an  ancient,  gray- 
haired  woman,  she  is  still  sure  of  being  thoughtfully 
cared  for. 

Your  parents  and  friends  must  take  great  satisfac 
tion  in  your  progress.  It  does  great  credit,  not  only 
to  you,  but  to  your  instructors,  who  have  so  broken 
down  the  walls  that  seemed  to  shut  you  in  that  now 


Act.  10}  LETTERS  191 

your  outlook  seems  more  bright  and  cheerful  than 
that  of  many  seeing  and  hearing  children. 

Good-bye,  dear  little  Helen !    With    every    kind 
wish  from  your  friend, 

OLIVER  WENDELL  HOLMES* 


This  letter  was  written  to  some  gentlemen  in 
Gardiner,  Maine,  who  named  a  lumber  vessel  after 
her. 


TO  MESSRS.  BRADSTREET 

TUSCUMBIA,  ALA.,  July  14,  1890. 

My  Dear,  Kind  Friends : — I  thank  you  very,  very 
much  for  naming  your  beautiful  new  ship  for  me. 
It  makes  me  very  happy  to  know  that  I  have  kind 
and  loving  friends  in  the  far-away  State  of  Maine.  I 
did  not  imagine,  when  I  studied  about  the  forests  of 
Maine,  that  a  strong  and  beautiful  ship  would  go 
sailing  all  over  the  world,  carrying  wood  from  those 
rich  forests,  to  build  pleasant  homes  and  schools  and 
churches  in  distant  countries.  I  hope  the  great 
ocean  will  love  the  new  Helen,  and  let  her  sail  over 
its  blue  waves  peacefully.  Please  tell  the  brave 
sailors,  who  have  charge  of  the  HELEN  KELLER, 
that  little  Helen  who  stays  at  home  will  often  think 
of  them  with  loving  thoughts.  I  hope  I  shall  see 
you  and  my  beautiful  namesake  some  time, 

With  much  love,  from  your  little  friend, 

HELEN  -A,  KELLE&, 
To  the  Messrs.  Bradstreet. 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  [Mw.  /o,  •<*> 

Helen  and  Miss  Sullivan  returned  to  the  Perkins 
Institution  early  in  November. 


TO  MRS.  KATE  ADAMS  KELLER 

SOUTH  BOSTON,  Nov.  10,  1890. 

My  Dearest  Mother: — My  heart  has  been  full  of 
thoughts  of  you  and  my  beautiful  home  ever  since 
we  parted  so  sadly  on  Wednesday  night.  How  I 
wish  I  could  see  you  this  lovely  morning,  and  tell  you 
all  that  has  happened  since  I  left  home !  And  my 
darling  little  sister,  how  I  wish  I  could  give  her  a 
hundred  kisses  !  And  my  dear  father,  how  he  would 
like  to  hear  about  our  journey !  But  I  cannot  see 
you  and  talk  to  you,  so  I  will  write  and  tell  you  all 
that  I  can  think  of. 

We  did  not  reach  Boston  until  Saturday  morning, 
I  am  sorry  to  say  that  our  train  was  delayed  in 
several  places,  which  made  us  late  in  reaching  New 
York.  When  we  got  to  Jersey  City  at  six  o'clock 
Friday  evening  we  were  obliged  to  cross  the  HarJem 
River  in  a  ferry-boat.  We  found  the  boat  and  the 
transfer  carriage  with  much  less  difficulty  than 
teacher  expected.  When  we  arrived  at  the  station 
they  told  us  that  the  train  did  not  leave  for  Boston 
until  eleven  o'clock,  but  that  we  could  take  the 
sleeper  at  nine,  which  we  did.  We  went  to  bed  and 
slept  until  morning.  When  we  awoke  we  were  in 
Boston.  I  was  delighted  to  get  there,  though  I  was 
much  disappointed  because  we  did  not  arrive  on 
Mr.  Anagnos'  birthday.  We  surprised  our  deal 
friends,  however,  for  they  did  not  expect  us  Sate/ 
day ;  but  when  the  bell  rung  Miss  Marrett  guessed 


Aet.  jo]  LETTERS  193 

who  was  at  the  door,  and  Mrs.  Hopkins  jumped  up 
from  the  breakfast  table  and  ran  to  the  door  to  mee* 
us;  she  was  indeed  much  astonished  to  see  us* 
After  we  had  had  some  breakfast  we  went  up  to  see 
Mr.  Anagnos.  I  was  overjoyed  to  see  my  dearest 
and  kindest  friend  once  more.  He  gave  me  a 
beautiful  watch.  I  have  it  pinned  to  my  dress.  I 
tell  everybody  the  time  when  they  ask  me.  I  have 
only  seen  Mr.  Anagnos  twice.  I  have  many  ques 
tions  to  ask  him  about  the  countries  he  has  been 
travelling  in.  But  I  suppose  he  is  very  busy  now. 

The  hills  in  Virginia  were  very  lovely.  Jack 
Frost  had  dressed  them  in  gold  and  crimson.  The 
view  was  most  charmingly  picturesque.  Pennsyl 
vania  is  a  very  beautiful  State.  The  grass  was  as 
green  as  though  it  was  springtime,  and  the  goldetf 
ears  of  corn  gathered  together  in  heaps  in  the  great 
fields  looked  very  pretty.  In  Harrisburg  we  saw  a 
donkey  like  Neddy.  How  I  wish  I  could  see  my  own 
donkey  and.  my  dear  Lioness  !  Do  they  miss  their 
mistress  very  much  ?  Tell  Mildred  she  must  be  kind 
to  them  for  my  sake. 

Our  room  is  pleasant  and  comfortable. 

My  typewriter  was  much  injured  coming.  The 
case  was  broken  and  the  keys  are  nearly  all  out. 
Teacher  is  going  to  see  if  it  can  be  fixed. 

There  are  many  new  books  in  the  library.  What 
a  nice  time  I  shall  have  reading  them !  I  have 
already  read  Sara  Crewe,  It  is  a  very  pretty 
story,  and  I  will  tell  it  to  you  some  time.  Now* 
sweet  mother,  your  little  girl  must  say  good-bye. 

With  much  love  to  father,  Mildred,  you  and  a$ 
the  dear  friends,  lovingly  your  little  daughter, 

HELEN  A.  K 


194  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  [Dec.  17, '90 

TO  JOHN  GREENLEAP  WHITTIER 

SOUTH  BOSTON  Dec.  17  i89<x 

Dear  Kind  Poet, 

This  is  your  birthday ;  that  was  the  first 
thought  which  came  into  my  mind  when  I  awoke 
this  morning;  and  it  made  me  glad  to  think 
I  could  write  you  a  letter  and  tell  you  how  much 
your  little  friends  love  their  sweet  poet  and  his  birth 
day.  This  evening  they  are  going  to  entertain 
their  friends  with  readings  from  your  poems  and 
music.  I  hope  the  swift  winged  messengers  of  love 
will  be  here  to  carry  some  of  the  sweet  melody  to 
you,  in  your  little  study  by  the  Merrimac.  At  first 
I  was  very  sorry  when  I  found  that  the  sun  had 
hidden  his  shining  face  behind  dull  clouds,  but  after 
wards  I  thought  why  he  did  it,  and  then  I  was  happy. 
The  sun  knows  that  you  like  to  see  the  world  covered 
with  beautiful  white  snow  and  so  he  kept  back  all  his 
brightness,  and  let  the  little  crystals  form  in  the  sky. 
When  they  are  ready,  they  will  softly  fall  and  ten 
derly  cover  every  object.  Then  the  sun  will  appear 
in  all  his  radiance  and  fill  the  world  with  light.  If  J 
were  with  you  to-day  I  would  give  you  eighty-three 
kisses,  one  for  each  year  you  have  lived.  Eighty* 
three  years  seems  very  long  to  me.  Does  it  seem  long 
to  you  ?  I  wonder  how  many  years  there  will  be  in 
eternity.  I  am  afraid  I  cannot  think  about  so  much 
time.  I  received  the  letter  which  you  wrote  to  me 
last  summer,  and  I  thank  you  for  it.  I  am  staying 
in  Boston  now  at  the  Institution  for  the  Blind,  but 
I  have  not  commenced  my  studies  yet,  because  my 
dearest  friend,  Mr.  Anagnos  wants  me  to  rest  and 
play  a  great  deal. 

Teacher  is  well  and  sends  her  kind  remembrance 


A*.  io]  LETTERS  195 

to  you.  The  happy  Christmas  time  is  almost  here  { 
I  can  hardly  wait  for  the  fun  to  begin  !  I  hope  your 
Christmas  Day  will  be  a  very  happy  one  and  that  the 
New  Year  will  be  full  of  brightness  and  joy  for  you 
and  every  one. 

From  your  little  friend 

HELEN  A.  KELLER. 


WHITTIER'S  REPLY 


My  Dear  Young  Friend — I  was  very  glad  to  have 
such  a  pleasant  letter  on  my  birthday.  I  had  two 
or  three  hundred  others  and  thine  was  one  of  the 
most  welcome  of  all.  I  must  tell  thee  about  how 
the  day  passed  at  Oak  Knoll.  Of  course  the  sun 
did  not  shine,  but  we  had  great  open  wood  fires  in 
the  rooms,  which  were  all  very  sweet  with  roses  and 
other  flowers,  which  were  sent  to  me  from  distant 
friends ;  and  fruits  of  all  kinds  from  California  and 
other  places.  Some  relatives  and  dear  old  friends 
were  with  me  through  the  day.  I  do  not  wonder 
thee  thinks  eighty  three  years  a  long  time,  but  to 
me  it  seems  but  a  very  little  while  since  I  was  a  boy 
no  older  than  thee,  playing  on  the  old  farm  at 
Haverhill.  I  thank  thee  for  all  thy  good  wishes, 
and  wish  thee  as  many.  I  am  glad  thee  is  at  the 
Institution;  it  is  an  excellent  place.  Give  my  best 
regards  to  Miss  Sullivan,  and  with  a  great  deal  of 
love  I  am 

Thy  old  friend, 

JOHN  G.  WHITTIER. 


196  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  [March  aot^ 

Tommy  Stringer,  who  appears  in  several  of  the  fol 
lowing  letters,  became  blind  and  deaf  when  he  was 
four  years  old.  His  mother  was  dead  and  his  fathef 
was  too  poor  to  take  care  of  him.  For  a  while  he 
was  kept  in  the  general  hospital  at  Allegheny. 
From  here  he  was  to  be  sent  to  an  almshouse,  for 
at  that  time  there  was  no  other  place  for  him  in 
Pennsylvania.  Helen  heard  of  him  through  Mr. 
J.  G.  Brown  of  Pittsburgh,  who  wrote  her  that 
he  had  failed  to  secure  a  tutor  for  Tommy.  She 
wanted  him  brought  to  Boston,  and  when  she 
was  told  that  money  would  be  needed  to  get  him 
a  teacher,  she  answered,  "We  will  raise  it."  She 
began  to  solicit  contributions  from  her  friends,  and 
saved  her  pennies. 

Dr.  Alexander  Graham  Bell  advised  Tommy's 
friends  to  send  him  to  Boston,  and  the  trustees  of 
the  Perkins  Institution  agreed  to  admit  him  to  the 
kindergarten  for  the  blind. 

Meanwhile  opportunity  came  to  Helen  to  make 
a  considerable  contribution  to  Tommy's  education. 
The  winter  before,  her  dog  Lioness  had  been  killed, 
and  friends  set  to  work  to  raise  money  to  buy  Helen 
another  dog.  Helen  asked  that  the  contributions, 
which  people  were  sending  from  all  over  America 
and  England,  be  devoted  to  Tommy's  education. 
Turned  to  this  new  use,  the  fund  grew  fast,  and 
Tommy  was  provided  for.  He  was  admitted  to  the 
kindergarten  on  the  sixth  of  April. 

Miss  Keller  wrote  lately,  <VI  shall  never  forget 
the  pennies  sent  by  many  a  poor  child  who  could 
ill  spare  them,  'for  little  Tommy,'  or  the  swift 
sympathy  with  which  people  from  far  and  near, 
whom  I  had  never  seen,  responded  to  the  dumb  cry 
of  a  little  captive  soul  for  aid." 


Aet.  ioi  LETTERS  197 

TO  MR.  GEORGE  R.  KREHL 

INSTITUTION  FOR  THE  BLIND. 
SOUTH  BOSTON,  MASS,,  March  20,  1891. 
My  Dear  Friend,  Mr.  Krehl: — 1  have  just  heard, 
through  Mr.  Wade,  of  your  kind  offer  to  buy  me 
a  gentle  dog,  and  I  want  to  thank  you  for  the 
kind  thought.  It  makes  me  very  happy  indeed  to 
know  that  I  have  such  dear  friends  in  other  lands.  It 
makes  me  think  that  all  people  are  good  and  loving. 
I  have  read  that  the  English  and  Americans  are 
cousins ;  but  I  am  sure  it  would  be  much  truer  to  say 
that  we  are  brothers  and  sisters.  My  friends  have 
told  me  about  your  great  and  magnificent  city,  and 
I  have  read  a  great  deal  that  wise  Englishmen  have 
written.  I  have  begun  to  read  "Enoch  Arden," 
and  I  know  several  of  the  great  poet's  poems  by 
heart.  I  am  eager  to  cross  the  ocean,  for  I  want  to 
see  my  English  friends  and  their  good  and  wise 
queen.  Once  the  Earl  of  Meath  came  to  see  me,  and 
he  told  me  that  the  queen  was  much  beloved  by 
her  people,  because  of  her  gentleness  and  wisdom. 
Some  day  you  will  be  surprised  to  see  a  little  strange 
girl  coming  into  your  office ;  but  when  you  know  it 
is  the  little  girl  who  loves  dogs  and  all  other  animals, 
you  will  laugh,  and  I  hope  you  will  give  her  a  kisst 
just  as  Mr.  Wade  does.  He  has  another  dog  for  me, 
and  he  thinks  she  will  be  as  brave  and  faithful  as 
my  beautiful  Lioness.  And  now  I  want  to  tell  you 
what  the  do&  lovers  in  America  are  going  to  do. 
They  are  going  to  send  me  some  money  for  a  poor 
little  deaf  and  dumb  and  blind  child.  His  name  is 
Tommy,  and  he  is  five  years  old.  His  parents  are 
too  poor  to  pay  to  have  the  little  fellow  sent  to 
school:  so.  instead  of  giving  me  a  dog,  the  gentle- 


i98  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE      [April,  'pi 

men  are  going  to  help  make  Tommy's  life  as  bright 
and  joyous  as  mine.     Is  it  not  a  beautiful  plan? 
Education  will  bring  light  and  music  into  Tommy's 
soul,  and  then  he  cannot  help  being  happy. 
From  your  loving  little  friend, 

HELEN  A.  KELLER. 


TO   DR.    OLIVER    WENDELL   HOLMES 

[SOUTH  BOSTON,  Mass.,  April,  1891.] 
Dear  Dr.  Holmes: — Your  beautiful  words  about 
spring  have  been  making  music  in  my  heart, 
these  bright  April  days.  I  love  every  word  of 
" Spring"  and  "Spring  Has  Come."  I  think  you 
will  be  glad  to  hear  that  these  poems  have  taught 
me  to  enjoy  and  love  the  beautiful  springtime, 
even  though  I  cannot  see  the  fair,  frail  blossoms 
which  proclaim  its  approach,  or  hear  the  joyous 
warbling  of  the  home-coming  birds.  But  when  I 
read  "Spring  Has  Come,"  lo !  I  am  not  blind  any 
longer,  for  I  see  with  your  eyes  and  hear  with  your 
ears.  Sweet  Mother  Nature  can  have  no  secrets 
from  me  when  my  poet  is  near.  I  have  chosen 
this  paper  because  I  want  the  spray  of  violets  in 
the  corner  to  tell  you  of  my  grateful  love.  I  want 
you  to  see  baby  Tom,  the  little  blind  and  deaf  and 
dumb  child  who  has  just  come  to  our  pretty  garden. 
He  is  poor  and  helpless  and  lonely  now,  but  before 
another  April  education  will  have  brought  light  and 
gladness  into  Tommy's  life.  If  you  do  come,  you 
will  want  to  ask  the  kind  people  of  Boston  to  help 
brighten  Tommy's  whole  life.  Your  loving  frier1  d, 

HELEN  KELLER. 


ftfff.  10]  LETTERS  199 

TO     SIR     JOHN     EVERETT     MILLAIS 

PERKINS  INSTITUTION  FOR  THE  BLIND, 

SOUTH  BOSTON,  MASS.,  April  30,  1891. 
My  Dear  Mr.  Millais: — Your  little  American 
sister  is  going  to  write  you  a  letter,  because  she  wants 
you  to  know  how  pleased  she  was  to  hear  you  were 
interested  in  our  poor  little  Tommy,  and  had  sent 
some  money  to  help  educate  him.  It  is  very 
beautiful  to  think  that  people  far  away  in  England 
feel  sorry  for  a  little  helpless  child  in  America.  I 
used  to  think,  when  I  read  in  my  books  about  your 
great  city,  that  when  I  visited  it  the  people  would  be 
strangers  to  me,  but  now  I  feel  differently.  It  seems 
co  me  that  all  people  who  have  loving,  pitying  hearts, 
are  not  strangers  to  each  other.  I  can  hardly  wait 
patiently  for  the  time  to  come  when  I  shall  see  my 
dear  English  friends,  and  their  beautiful  island  home 
My  favorite  poet  has  written  some  lines  about 
England  which  I  love  very  much.  I  think  you  will 
like  them  too,  so  I  will  try  to  write  them  for  you. 

"  Hugged  in  the  clinging  billow's  clasp, 

From  seaweed  fringe  to  mountain  heather. 
The  British  oak  with  rooted  grasp 

Her  slender  handful  holds  together, 
With  cliffs  of  white  and  bowers  of  green, 

And  ocean  narrowing  to  caress  her, 
And  hills  and  threaded  streams  between, 

Our  little  mother  isle,  God  bless  her  !" 

You  will  be  glad  to  hear  that  Tommy  has  a  kind 
lady  to  teach  him,  and  that  he  is  a  pretty,  active 
little  fellow.  He  loves  to  climb  much  better  than  to 
spell,  but  that  is  because  he  does  not  know  yet  what 
a  wonderful  thing  language  is.  He  cannot  imagine 
bow  very,  very  happy  lie  will  be  when  he  can  tell  vs 


200  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

his  thoughts,  and  we  can  tell  him  how  we  have  loved 
him  so  long. 

Tomorrow  April  will  hide  her  tears  and  blushes 
beneath  the  flowers  of  lovely  May.  I  wonder  if  the 
May-days  in  England  are  as  beautiful  as  they  are 
here. 

Now  I  must  say  good-bye.  Please  thinK  of  me 
always  as  your  loving  little  sister, 

HELEN    KELLER. 


TO    REV.    PHILLIPS    BROOKS 

So.  BOSTON,  May  i,   1891. 
My  Dear  Mr.   Brooks: 

Helen  sends  you  a  loving  greeting  this  bright 
May-day.  My  teacher  has  just  told  me  that 
you  have  been  made  a  bishop,  and  that  your 
friends  everywhere  are  rejoicing  because  one  whom 
they  love  has  been  greatly  honored.  I  d<?  not 
understand  very  well  what  a  bishop's  work  is,  but 
I  am  sure  it  must  be  good  and  helpful,  and  I  am 
glad  that  my  dear  friend  is  brave,  and  wise,  and 
loving  enough  to  do  it.  It  is  very  beautiful  to  think 
that  you  can  tell  so  many  people  of  the  heavenly 
Father's  tender  love  for  all  His  children  even  when 
they  are  not  gentle  and  noble  as  He  wishes  them  to 
be.  I  hope  the  glad  news  which  you  will  tell  them 
will  make  their  hearts  beat  fast  with  joy  and  love. 
I  hope  too,  that  Bishop  Brooks'  whole  life  will  be 
as  rich  in  happiness  as  the  month  of  May  is  full  of 
blossoms  and  singing  birds. 

From  your  loving  little  friend, 

HELEN   KELLER.  ^ 


9Aet.  10]  LETTERS  20 1 

Before  a  teacher  was  found  for  Tommy  and  while 
he  was  still  in  the  care  of  Helen  and  Miss  Sullivan,  a 
reception  was  held  for  him  at  the  kindergarten.  At 
Helen's  request  Bishop  Brooks  made  an  address. 
Helen  wrote  letters  to  the  newspapers  which  brought 
many  generous  replies.  All  of  these  she  answered 
herself,  and  she  made  public  acknowledgment  in 
letters  to  the  newspapers.  This  letter  is  to  the  editor 
of  the  Boston  Herald,  enclosing  a  complete  list  of  the 
subscribers.  The  contributions  amounted  to  more 
than  sixteen  hundred  dollars. 

TO   MR.   JOHN   H.    HOLMES 

SOUTH  BOSTON,  May  13,  1891. 
Editor  of  the  Boston  Herald: 

My  Dear  Mr.  Holmes: — Will  you  kindly  print,  in 
the  Herald,  the  enclosed  list  ?  I  think  the  readers  of 
your  paper  will  be  glad  to  know  that  so  much  has 
been  done  for  dear  little  Tommy,  and  that  they  will 
all  wish  to  share  in  the  pleasure  of  helping  him. 
He  is  very  happy  indeed  at  the  kindergarten,  and  is 
learning  something  every  day.  He  has  found  out 
that  doors  have  locks,  and  that  little  sticks  and  bits 
of  paper  can  be  got  into  the  key-hole  quite  easily; 
but  he  does  not  seem  very  eager  to  get  them  out  after 
they  are  in.  He  loves  to  climb  the  bed-posts  and 
unscrew  the  steam  valves  much  better  than  to  spell, 
but  that  is  because  he  does  not  understand  that1 
words  would  help  him  to  make  new  and  interesting 
discoveries.  I  hope  that  good  people  will  continue  to 
work  for  Tommy  until  his  fund  is  completed,  and 
education  has  brought  light  and  music  into  his  littlff 
life.  From  your  little  friend, 

HELEN    KELLER. 


202  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  [May  27,  'pi 

TO    DR.    OLIVER    WENDELL    HOLMES 

SOUTH  BOSTON,  May  27,  1891. 

Dear,  Gentle  Poet: — I  fear  that  you  will  think 
Helen  a  very  troublesome  little  girl  if  she  writes 
to  you  too  often;  but  how  is  she  to  help  send 
ing  you  loving  and  grateful  messages,  when  you 
do  so  much  to  make  her  glad?  I  cannot  begin 
to  tell  you  how  delighted  I  was  when  Mr.  Anagnos 
told  me  that  you  had  sent  him  some  money 
to  help  educate  "  Baby  Tom."  Then  I  knew 
that  you  had  not  forgotten  the  dear  little 
child,  for  the  gift  brought  with  it  the  thought  of 
tender  sympathy.  I  am  very  sorry  to  say  that 
Tommy  has  not  learned  any  words  yet.  He  is  the 
same  restless  little  creature  he  was  when  you  saw  him. 
But  it  is  pleasant  to  think  that  he  is  happy  and 
playful  in  his  bright  new  home,  and  by  and  by  that 
strange,  wonderful  thing  teacher  calls  mind,  will 
begin  to  spread  its  beautiful  wings  and  fly  away  in 
search  of  knowledge-land.  Words  are  the  mind's 
wings,  are  they  not? 

I  have  been  to  Andover  since  I  saw  you,  and  I 
was  greatly  interested  in  all  that  my  friends  told  me 
about  Phillips  Academy,  because  I  knew  you  had 
been  there,  and  I  felt  it  was  a  place  dear  to  you.. 
I  tried  to  imagine  my  gentle  poet  when  he  was  a 
school-boy,  and  I  wondered  if  it  was  in  Andover  he 
learned  the  songs  of  the  birds  and  the  secrets  of 
the  shy  little  woodland  children.  I  am  sure  his  heart 
was  always  full  of  music,  and  in  God's  beautiful 
world  he  must  have  heard  love's  sweet  replying. 
When  I  came  home  teacher  read  to  me  "The 
School-boy,"  for  it  is  not  in  our  print. 
.  Did  you  know  that  the  blind  children  are  going 


Aet.  ro]  LETTERS  203 

to  have  their  commencement  exercises  in  Tremont 
Temple,  next  Tuesday  afternoon?  I  enclose  a 
ticket,  hoping  that  you  will  come.  We  shall  all  be 
proud  and  happy  to  welcome  our  poet  friend.  I 
shall  recite  about  the  beautiful  cities  of  sunny 
Italy.  I  hope  our  kind  friend  Dr.  Ellis  will  come 
«K>o,  and  take  Tom  in  his  arms. 

With  much  love  and  a  kiss,  from  your  little  friend^ 

HELEN  A.  KELLER. 


TO   REV.    PHILLIPS    BROOKS 

SOUTH  BOSTON,  June  8,  1891. 

My  dear  Mr.  Brooks, 

I  send  you  my  picture  as  I  promised,  and  I 
.hope  when  you  look  at  it  this  summer  your 
thoughts  will  fly  southward  to*  your  happy 
little  friend.  I  used  to  wish  that  I  could  see 
pictures  with  my  hands  as  I  do  statues,  but  now  I 
do  not  often  think  about  it  because  my  dear  Father 
has  filled  my  mind  with  beautiful  pictures,  even  of 
things  I  cannot  see.  If  the  light  were  not  in  your 
eyes,  dear  Mr.  Brooks,  you  would  understand  better 
how  happy  your  little  Helen  was  when  her  teacher 
explained  to  her  that  the  best  and  most  beautiful 
things  in  the  world  cannot  be  seen  nor  even  touched, 
but  just  felt  in  the  heart.  Every  day  I  find  out 
something  which  makes  me  glad.  Yesterday  I 
thought  for  the  first  time  what  a  beautiful  thing 
motion  was,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  everything 
was  trying  to  get  near  to  God,  does  it  seem  that  way 
to  you?  It  is  Sunday  morning,  and  while  I  sit  here 


204  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  [Mar.  TO,  *p* 

in  the  library  writing  this  letter  you  are  teaching 
hundreds  of  people  some  of  the  grand  and  beautiful 
things  about  their  heavenly  Father.  Are  you  not 
very,  very  happy  ?  and  when  you  are  a  Bishop  you 
will  preach  to  more  people  and  more  and  more  will 
be  made  glad.  Teacher  sends  her  kind  remem 
brances,  and  I  send  you  with  my  picture  my  dear 
love. 

From  your  little  friend 

HELEN  KELLER. 


When  the  Perkins  Institution  closed  in  June, 
Helen  and  her  teacher  went  south  to  Tuscumbia. 
where  they  remained  until  December.  There  is  a 
hiatus  of  several  months  in  the  letters,  caused  by  the 
depressing  effect  on  Helen  and  Miss  Sullivan  of  the 
" Frost  King"  episode.  At  the  time  this  trouble 
seemed  very  grave  and  brought  them  much  unhap- 
piness.  An  analysis  of  the  case  has  been  made 
elsewhere,*  and  Miss  Keller  has  written  her 
account  of  it.f 


TO    MR.    ALBERT   H.    MUNSELL 

BREWSTER,  Mar.   10,   1892. 

My  dear  Mr.  Munsell, 

Surely  I  need  not  tell  you  that  your  letter 
was  very  welcome.  I  enjoyed  every  word  of  it 
and  wished  that  it  was  longer.  I  laughed  when 
you  spoke  of  old  Neptune's  wild  moods.  He 

*Page  306. 


A*,  ji]  LETTERS  205 

has,  in  truth,  behaved  very  strangely  ever  since 
we  came  to  Brewster.  It  is  evident  that  something 
has  displeased  his  Majesty  but  I  cannot  imagine 
what  it  can  be.  His  expression  has  been  so  turbu 
lent  that  I  have  feared  to  give  him  your  kind  message. 
Who  knows !  Perhaps  the  Old  Sea  God  as  he  lay 
asleep  upon  the  shore,  heard  the  soft  music  of  grow 
ing  things — the  stir  of  life  in  the  earth's  bosom, 
and  his  stormy  heart  was  angry,  because  he  knew 
that  his  and  Winter's  reign  was  almost  at  an  end. 
So  together  the  unhappy  monarchfs]  fought  most 
despairingly,  thinking  that  gentle  Spring  would 
turn  and  fly  at  the  very  sight  of  the  havoc  caused 
by  their  forces.  But  lo !  the  lovely  maiden  only 
smiles  more  sweetly,  and  breathes  upon  the  icy 
battlements  of  her  enemies,  and  in  a  moment  they 
vanish,  and  the  glad  Earth  gives  her  a  royal  welcome. 
But  I  must  put  away  these  idle  fancies  until  we  meet 
again.  Please  give  your  dear  mother  my  love. 
Teacher  wishes  me  to  say  that  she  liked  the  photo 
graph  very  much  and  she  will  see  about  having  some 
when  we  return.  Now,  dear  friend,  Please  accept 
these  few  words  because  of  the  love  that  is  linked 
with  them. 

Lovingly    yours 

HELEN  KELLER. 


This  letter  was  reproduced  in  facsimile  in  St. 
Nicholas,  June,  1892.  It  is  undated,  but  must 
have  been  written  two  or  three  months  before  it 
was  published. 


206  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

TO  St.  Nicholas* 

Dear  St.   Nicholas: 

It  gives  me  very  great  pleasure  to  send  yotj 
my  autograph  because  I  want  the  boys  and 
girls  who  read  St.  Nicholas  to  know  how  blind 
children  write.  I  suppose  some  of  them  wonder 
how  we  keep  the  lines  so  straight  so  I  will  try 
to  tell  them  how  it  is  done.  We  have  a  grooved 
board  which  we  put  between  the  pages  when  we 
wish  to  write.  The  parallel  grooves  correspond  to 
lines  and  when  we  have  pressed  the  paper  into  them 
by  means  of  the  blunt  end  of  the  pencil  it  is  very 
easy  to  keep  the  words  even.  The  small  letters  are 
all  made  in  the  grooves,  while  the  long  ones  extend 
above  and  below  them.  We  guide  the  pencil  with 
the  right  hand,  and  feel  carefully  with  the  forefinger 
of  the  left  hand  to  see  that  we  shape  and  space  the 
letters  correctly.  It  is  very  difficult  at  first  to  form 
them  plainly,  but  if  we  keep  on  trying  it  gradually 
becomes  easier,  and  after  a  great  deal  of  practice 
we  can  write  legible  letters  to  our  friends.  Then  we 
are  very,  very  happy.  Sometime  they  may  visit  a 
school  for  the  blind.  If  they  do,  I  am  sure  they  wil) 
wish  to  see  the  pupils  write. 

Very  sincerely  your  little  friend 

HELEN  KELLER. 


In  May,  1892,  Helen  gave  a  tea  in  aid  of  the 
kindergarten  for  the  blind.  It  was  quite  her  own 
idea,  and  was  given  in  the  house  of  Mrs.  Mahlon  D. 
Spaulding,  sister  of  Mr.  John  P.  Spaulding,  one  of 

*  Reprinted  by  courteous  permission  of  the  Century  Co. 


Act.  11}  LETTERS  207 

Helen's  kindest  and  most  liberal  friends.  The  tea 
brought  more  than  two  thousand  dollars  for  the  blind 
children. 


{  TO  MISS  CAROLINE  DERBY 

SOUTH  BOSTON,  May  9,  1892. 
^  My  dear  Miss  Carrie: — I  was  much  pleased  to 
receive  your  kind  letter.  Need  I  tell  you  that  I  was 
more  than  delighted  to  hear  that  you  are  really 
interested  in  the  "tea"?  Of  course  we  must  not 
give  it  up.  Very  soon  I  am  going  far  away,  to  my 
own  dear  home,  in  the  sunny  south,  and  it  would 
always  make  me  happy  to  think  that  the  last  thing 
which  my  dear  friends  in  Boston  did  for  my  pleasure 
was  to  help  make  the  lives  of  many  little  sightless 
children  good  and  happy.  I  know  that  kind  people 
cannot  help  feeling  a  tender  sympathy  for  the  little 
ones,  who  cannot  see  the  beautiful  light,  or  any  of 
the  wonderful  things  which  give  them  pleasure;  and 
it  seems  to  me  that  all  loving  sympathy  must  ex 
press  itself  in  acts  of  kindness;  and  when  the  friends 
of  little  helpless  blind  children  understand  that  we  are 
working  for  their  happiness,  they  will  come  and  make 
our  "tea"  a  success,  and  I  am  sure  I  shall  be  the 
happiest  little  girl  in  all  the  world.  Please  let  Bishop 
Brooks  know  our  plans,  so  that  he  may  arrange  to  be 
with  us.  I  am  glad  Miss  Eleanor  is  interested. 
Please  give  her  my  love.  I  will  see  you  to-morrow 
and  then  we  can  make  the  rest  of  our  plans.  Please 
give  your  dear  aunt  teacher's  and  my  love  and  tell 
her  that  we  enjoyed  our  little  visit  very  much  indeed. 

Lovingly  yours, 

HELEN  KELLER. 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

TO   MR.   JOHN   P.    SPAULDING 

SOUTH  BOSTON,  May  nth,  189^ 

My  dear  Mr.  Spaulding: — I  am  afraid  you  wifl 
think  your  little  friend,  Helen,  very  troublesome 
when  you  read  this  letter ;  but  I  am  sure  you  will  not 
blame  me  when  I  tell  you  that  I  am  very  anxious 
about  something.  You  remember  teacher  and  I 
told  you  Sunday  that  I  wanted  to  have  a  little  tea  in 
aid  of  the  kindergarten.  We  thought  everything 
was  arranged:  but  we  found  Monday  that  Mrsr 
Elliott  would  not  be  willing  to  let  us  invite  more 
than  fifty  people,  because  Mrs.  Howe's  house  is  quite 
small.  I  am  sure  that  a  great  many  people  would 
like  to  come  to  the  tea,  and  help  me  do  something 
to  brighten  the  lives  of  little  blind  children;  but 
some  of  my  friendsisay  that  I  shall  have  to  give  up 
the  idea  of  having  a  tea  unless  we  can  find  another 
house.  Teacher  said  yesterday,  that  perhaps  Mrs. 
Spaulding  would  be  willing  to  let  us  have  her  beauti 
ful  house,  and  [I]  thought  I  would  ask  you  about  it. 
Do  you  think  Mrs.  Spaulding  would  help  me,  if  I 
wrote  to  her  ?  I  shall  b^  so  disappointed  if  my  little 
plans  fail,  because  I  have  wanted  for  a  long  time  to 
do  something  for  the  poor  little  ones  who  are  waiting 
«,o  enter  the  kindergarten.  Please  let  me  know 
^•vhat  you  think  about  the  house,  and  try  to  forgive 
L,  e  for  troubling  you  so  much. 

Lovingly  your  little  friend, 
HELEN 


*Aet.  a]  LETTERS  209 

TO   MR.    EDWARD    H.    CLEMENT 

SOUTH  BOSTON,  May  i8th,  1892. 

My  dear  Mr.  Clement : — I  am  going  to  write  to 
you  this  beautiful  morning  because  my  heart  is 
brimful  of  happiness  and  I  want  you  and  all  my  dear 
friends  in  the  Transcript  office  to  rejoice  with  me. 
The  preparations  for  my  tea  are  nearly  completed, 
and  I  am  looking  forward  joyfully  to  the  event.  I 
know  I  shall  not  fail.  Kind  people  will  not  disap 
point  me,  when  they  know  that  I  plead  for  helpless 
little  children  who  live  in  darkness  and  ignorance. 
They  will  come  to  my  tea  and  buy  light, — the  beau 
tiful  light  of  knowledge  and  love  for  many  little  ones? 
who  are  blind  and  friendless.  I  remember  perfectly 
when  my  dear  teacher  came  to  me.  Then  I  was  like 
the  little  blind  children  who  are  waiting  to  enter  the 
kindergarten.  There  was  no  light  in  my  soul.  This 
wonderful  world  with  all  its  sunlight  and  beauty 
was  hidden  from  me,  and  I  had  never  dreamed  of  its 
loveliness.  But  teacher  came  to  me  and  taught  my 
little  fingers  to  use  the  beautiful  key  that  has 
unlocked  the  door  of  my  dark  prison  and  set  my 
Spirit  free. 

It  is  my  earnest  wish  to  share  my  happiness  with 
others,  and  I  ask  the  kind  people  of  Boston  to  help 
me  make  the  lives  of  little  blind  children  brighter 
and  happier. 

Lovingly  your  little  friend, 

HELEN  KELLER. 


At  the  end  of  June  Miss  Sullivan  and  Helen  went 
home  to  Tuscumbia. 


2  io  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

TO    MISS    CAROLINE   DERBY 

TUSCUMBIA,  ALABAMA,  July  gth  1892. 
My  dear  Carrie — You  are  to  look  upon  it  as  ?« 
most  positive  proof  of  my  love  that  I  write  to  you  to 
day.  For  a  whole  w^eek  it  has  been  "  cold  and  dark 
and  dreary"  in  Tuscumbia,  and  I  must  confess  the 
continuous  rain  and  dismalness  of  the  weather  nils 
me  with  gloomy  thoughts  and  makes  the  writing  of 
letters,  or  any  pleasant  employment,  seem  quite 
impossible.  Nevertheless,  I  must  tell  you  that  we 
are  alive, — that  we  reached  home  safely,  and  that  we 
speak  of  you  daily,  and  enjoy  your  interesting  letters 
very  much.  I  had  a  beautiful  visit  at  Hulton. 
Everything  was  fresh  and  spring-like,  and  we  stayed 
out  of  doors  all  day.  We  even  ate  our  breakfast 
out  on  the  piazza.  Sometimes  we  sat  in  the  ham 
mock,  and  teacher  read  to  me.  I  rode  horseback 
nearly  every  evening  and  once  I  rode  five  miles  at  a 
fast  gallop.  O,  it  was  great  fun  !  Do  you  like  to 
ride  ?  I  have  a  very  pretty  little  cart  now,  and  if  it 
ever  stops  raining  teacher  and  I  are  going  to  drive 
every  evening.  And  I  have  another  beautiful 
Mastiff — the  largest  one  I  ever  saw- — and  he  will  go 
along  to  protect  us.  His  name  is  Eumer.  A  queer 
name,  is  it  not  ?  I  think  it  is  Saxon.  We  expect  to 
go  to  the  mountains  next  week.  My  little  brother, 
Phillips,  is  not  well,  and  we  think  the  clear  mountain 
air  will  benefit  him.  Mildred  is  a  sweet  little  sister 
and  I  am  sure  you  would  love  her.  I  thank  you 
very  much  for  your  photograph.  I  like  to  have  my 
friends ;  pictures  even  though  I  cannot  see  them.  I 
was  greatly  amused  at  the  idea  of  your  writing  the 
square  hand.  I  do  not  write  on  a  Braille  tablet,  as 
you  suppose,  but  on  a  grooved  board  like  the  piece 


Aet.i2]  LETTERS  211 

which  I  enclose.  You  could  not  read  Braille;  for  it 
is  written  in  dots,  not  at  all  like  ordinary  letters. 
Please  give  my  love  to  Miss  Derby  and  tell  her  that 
I  hope  she  gave  my  sweetest  love  to  Baby  Ruth. 
What  was  the  book  you  sent  me  for  my  birthday? 
I  received  several,  and  I  do  now  know  which  was 
from  you.  I  had  one  gift  which  especially  pleased 
me.  It  was  a  lovely  cape  crocheted,  for  me,  by  an 
old  gentleman,  seventy-five  years  of  age.  And 
every  stitch,  he  writes,  represents  a  kind  wish  for 
my  health  and  happiness.  Tell  your  little  cousins 
I  think  they  had  better  get  upon  the  fence  with  me 
until  after  the  election ;  for  there  are  so  many  parties 
and  candidates  that  I  doubt  if  such  youthful  poli 
ticians  would  make  a  wise  selection.  Please  give 
my  love  to  Rosy  when  you  write,  and  believe  me, 
Your  loving  friend 

HELEN  KELLER. 

P.  S.    How  do  you  like  this  type- written  letter? 

H.  K. 


TO  MRS.   GROVER  CLEVELAND 

My  dear  Mrs.  Cleveland, 

I  am  going  to  write  you  a  little  letter  this 
beautiful  morning  because  I  love  you  and  dear 
little  Ruth  very  much  indeed,  and  also  because 
I  wish  to  thank  you  for  the  loving  message 
which  you  sent  me  through  Miss  Derby.  I  am 
glad,  very  glad  that  such  a  kind,  beautifu  lady 
loves  me.  I  have  loved  you  for  a  long  time,  but  I 
did  not  think  you  had  ever  heard  of  me  until  your 


«i2  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE     [Dec.  ip,  <& 

sweet  message  came.  Please  kiss  your  dear  little 
baby  for  me,  and  tell  her  I  have  a  little  brother 
nearly  sixteen  months  old.  His  name  is  Phillips 
Brooks.  I  named  him  myself  after  my  dear  friend 
Phillips  Brooks.  I  send  you  with  this  letter  a  pretty 
book  which  my  teacher  thinks  will  interest  you,  and 
my  picture.  Please  accept  them  with  the  love  and 
good  wishes  of  your  friend, 

HELEN  KELLER, 
TUSCUMBIA,  ALABAMA. 
November  fourth.     [1892.] 


Hitherto  the  letters  have  been  given  in  full ;  from 
this  point  on  passages  are  omitted  and  the  omis 
sions  are  indicated. 


TO   MR.   JOHN   HIT2 

TUSCUMBIA,  ALABAMA.  Dec.  19,  1892. 
My  Dear  Mr.  Hitz, 

I  hardly  know  how  to  begin  a  letter  to 
it  has  been  such  a  long  time  since  your  kind 
letter  reached  me,  and  there  is  so  much  that  I 
would  like  to  write  if  I  could.  You  must  have 
wondered  why  your  letter  has  not  had  an  answer, 
and  perhaps  you  have  thought  Teacher  and  me  very 
naughty  indeed.  If  so,  you  will  be  very  sorry  when 
I  tell  you  something.  Teacher's  eyes  have  been 
hurting  her  so  that  she  could  not  write  to  any  one, 
and  I  have  been  trying  to  fulfil  a  promise  which  I 
made  last  summer.  Before  I  left  Boston,  I  was 


Aet.i2}  LETTERS  213 

asked  to  write  a  sketch  of  my  life  for  the  Youth's 
Companion.  I  had  intended  to  write  the  sketch 
during  my  vacation:  but  I  was  not  well,  and  I  did 
not  feel  able  to  write  even  to  my  friends.  But  when 
the  bright,  pleasant  autumn  days  came,  and  I  felt 
strong  again  I  began  to  think  about  the  sketch. 
It  was  some  time  before  I  could  plan  it  to  suit  me. 
You  see,  it  is  not  very  pleasant  to  write  all  about 
one's  self.  At  last,  however,  I  got  something  bit 
by  bit  that  Teacher  thought  would  do,  and  1  set 
about  putting  the  scraps  together,  which  was  not  an 
easy  task:  for,  although  I  worked  some  on  it  every 
day,  I  did  not  finish  it  until  a  week  ago  Saturday. 
I  sent  the  sketch  to  the  Companion  as  soon  as  it 
was  finished;  but  I  do  not  know  that  they  will 
accept  it.  Since  then,  I  have  not  been  well,  and  I 
have  been  obliged  to  keep  very  quiet,  and  rest; 
but  to-day  I  am  better,  and  to-morrow  I  shall  be 
well  again,  I  hope. 

The  reports  which  you  have  read  in  the  paper 
about  me  are  not  true  at  all.  We  received  the 
Silent  Worker  which  you  sent,  and  I  wrote  right 
away  to  the  editor  to  tell  him  that  it  was  a  mistake. 
Sometimes  I  am  not  well;  but  I  am  not  a  "wreck," 
and  there  is  nothing  "distressing''  about  my  con 
dition. 

I  enjoyed  your  dear  letter  so  much  !  I  am  always 
delighted  when  anyone  writes  me  a  beautiful 
thought  which  I  can  treasure  in  my  memory  forever. 
It  is  because  my  books  are  full  of  the  riches  of 
which  Mr.  Ruskin  speaks  that  I  love  them  so  dearly. 
1  did  not  realize  until  I  began  to  write  the  sketch  for 
ihe  Companion,  what  precious  companions  books 
have  been  to  me,  and  how  blessed  even  my  life  has 
^  and  now  I_am  happier  than  ever  because  I  dc^ 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE   [Feb.  if,  & 

realize  the  happiness  that  has  come  to  me.  I  hope 
you  will  write  to  me  as  often  as  you  can.  Teacher 
and  I  are  always  delighted  to  hear  from  you.  I 
want  to  write  to  Mr.  Bell  and  send  him  my  picture. 
I  suppose  he  has  been  too  busy  to  write  to  his  little 
friend.  I  often  think  of  the  pleasant  time  we  had 
all  together  in  Boston  last  spring. 

Now  I  am  going  to  tell  you  a  secret.  I  think  we, 
Teacher,  and  my  father  and  little  sister,  and  myself, 
will  visit  Washington  next  March ! ! !  Then  I  shall 
see  you,  and  dear  Mr.  Bell,  and  Elsie  and  Daisy 
again !  Would  not  it  be  lovely  if  Mrs.  Pratt  could 
meet  us  there  ?  I  think  I  will  write  to  her  and  tell 
her  the  secret  too.  .  .  . 

Lovingly  your  little  friend, 

HELEN  KELLER. 

P.  S.  Teacher  says  you  want  to  know  what  kind 
Of  a  pet  I  would  like  to  have.  I  love  all  living  things, 
— I  suppose  everyone  does ;  but  of  course  I  cannot 
have  a  menagerie.  I  have  a  beautiful  pony,  and  a 
terge  dog.  And  I  would  like  a  little  dog  to  hold  in, 
my  lap,  or  a  big  pussy  (there  are  no  fine  cats  in 
Tuscumbia)  or  a  parrot.  I  would  like  to  feel  a  parrot 
talk,  it  would  be  so  much  fun!  but  I  would  be  pleased 
with,  and  love  any  little  creature  you  send  me. 

H.  K. 

TO   MISS   CAROLINE   DERBY 

TUSCUMBIA,  ALABAMA,  February  18,  1893. 
.     .     .     You    have    often    been    in    my    thoughts 
during  these  sad  days,  while  my  heart  has  been 


Aei.iz}  LETTERS  215 

grieving  over  the  loss  of  my  beloved  friend,*  and  I 
have  wished  many  times  that  I  was  in  Boston  with 
those  who  knew  and  loved  him  as  I  did  ...  he 
was  so  much  of  a  friend  to  me  !  so  tender  and  loving 
always  !  I  do  try  not  to  mourn  his  death  too  sadly. 
I  do  try  to  think  that  he  is  still  near,  very  near ;  but 
sometimes  the  thought  that  he  is  not  here,  that  I 
shall  not  see  him  when  I  go  to  Boston, — that  he 
is  gone, — rushes  over  my  soul  like  a  great  wave  of 
sorrow.  But  at  other  times,  when  I  am  happier,  I 
do  feel  his  beautiful  presence,  and  his  loving  hand 
leading  me  in  pleasant  ways.  Do  you  remember 
the  happy  hour  we  spent  with  him  last  June  when 
he  held  my  hand,  as  he  always  did,  and  talked  to  us 
about  his  friend  Tennyson,  and  our  own  dear  poet 
Dr.  Holmes,  and  I  tried  to  teach  him  the  manual 
alphabet,  and  he  laughed  so  gaily  over  his  mistakes, 
and  afterward  I  told  him  a,bout  my  tea,  and  he 
promised  to  come  ?  I  can  hear  him  now,  saying  in 
his  cheerful,  decided  way,  in  reply  to  my  wish  that 
my  tea  might  be  a  success,  "  Of  course  it  will,  Helen. 
Put  your  whole  heart  in  the  good  work,  my  child, 
and  it  cannot  fail. "  I  am  glad  the  people  are  going 
to  raise  a  monument  to  his  memory.  .  .  , 


In  March  Helen  and  Miss  Sullivan  went  North, 
and  spent  the  next  few  months  traveling  and  visit 
ing  friends. 

In  reading  this  letter  about  Niagara  one  should 
remember  that  Miss  Keller  knows  distance  and  shape, 
and  that  the  size  of  Niagara  is  within  her  experi* 

*  Phillip-?  Brook?,  died  January  23,  1893. 


216       THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  [April  13,  '93 

ence  after  she  has  explored  it,  crossed  the  bridge 
and  gone  down  in  the  elevator.  Especially  impor 
tant  are  such  details  as  her  feeling  the  rush  of  the 
water  by  putting  her  hand  on  the  window.  Dr. 
Bell  gave  her  a  down  pillow,  which  she  held  against 
her  to  increase  the  vibrations. 


TO  MRS.   KATE  ADAMS  KELLER 

SOUTH  BOSTON,  April  13,  1893. 
Teacher,    Mrs.    Pratt   and   I   very   unex 
pectedly  decided  to  take  a  journey  with  dear  Dr. 
Bell  Mr.    Westervelt,    a   gentleman    whom 

father  met  in  Washington,  has  a  school  for  the  deaf 
in  Rochester.     We  went  there  first.     .     .     . 

Mr.  Westervelt  gave  us  a  reception  one  afternoon. 
A  great  many  people  came.  Some  of  them  asked 
odd  questions.  A  lady  seemed  surprised  that  I 
loved  flowers  when  I  could  not  see  their  beautiful 
colors,  and  when  I  assured  her  I  did  love  them,  she 
said,  "no  doubt  you  feel  the  colors  with  your  fingers.7' 
But  of  course,  it  is  not  alone  for  their  bright  colors 
that  we  love  the  flowers.  ...  A  gentleman 
asked  me  what  beauty  meant  to  my  mind.  I  must 
confess  I  was  puzzled  at  first.  But  after  a  minute 
I  answered  that  beauty  was  a  form  of  goodness— 
and  he  went  away. 

When  the  reception  was  over  we  went  back  to  the 
hotel  and  teacher  slept  quite  unconscious  of  the 
surprise  which  was  in  store  for  her.  Mr.  Bell  and  I 
planned  it  together,  and  Mr.  Bell  made  all  the 
arrangements  before  we  told  teacher  anything 
about  it.  This  was  the  surprise — I  was  to  have 


12}  LETTERS  217 

the   pleasure   of  taking   my   dear  teacher   to   see 
Niagara  Falls !     .     .     . 

The  hotel  was  so  near  the  river  that  I  could  feel 
it  rushing  past  by  putting  my  hand  on  the  window. 
The  next  morning  the  sun  rose  bright  and  warm, 
and  we  got  up  quickly  for  our  hearts  were  full 
of  pleasant  expectation.  .  .  .  You  can  never 
imagine  how  I  felt  when  I  stood  in  the  presence  of 
Niagara  until  you  have  the  same  mysterious  sensa 
tions  yourself.  I  could  hardly  realize  that  it  was 
water  that  I  felt  rushing  and  plunging  with  impetu 
ous  fury  at  my  feet.  It  seemed  as  if  it  were  some 
living  thing  rushing  on  to  some  terrible  fate.  I  wish 
I  could  describe  the  cataract  as  it  is,  its  beauty 
and  awful  grandeur,  and  the  fearful  and  irresistible 
plunge  of  its  waters  over  the  brow  of  the  precipice. 
One  feels  helpless  and  overwhelmed  in  the  presence 
of  such  a  vast  force.  I  had  the  same  feeling  once 
before  when  I  first  stood  by  the  great  ocean  and  felt 
its  waves  beating  against  the  shore.  I  suppose  you 
feel  so,  too,  when  you  gaze  up  to  the  stars  in  the 
stillness  of  the  night,  do  you  not?  .  .  .  We 
went  down  a  hundred  and  twenty  feet  in  an  elevator 
that  we  might  see  the  violent  eddies  and  whirlpools 
in  the  deep  gorge  below  the  Falls.  Within  two  miles 
of  the  Falls  is  a  wonderful  suspension  bridge.  It  is 
thrown  across  the  gorge  at  a  height  of  two  hundred 
and  fifty-eight  feet  above  the  water  and  is  sup 
ported  on  each  bank  by  towers  of  solid  rock,  which 
are  eight  hundred  feet  apart.  When  we  crossed 
over  to  the  Canadian  side,  I  cried,  "God  save  the 
Queen !"  Teacher  said  I  was  a  little  traitor.  But 
I  do  not  think  so.  I  was  only  doing  as  the  Canadians 
do,  while  I  was  in  their  country,  and  besides  I  honor 
England's  good  auee**  -  , 


2i8  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  [Apr.  13,^3 

You  will  be  pleased,  dear  Mother,  to  hear  that  a 
kind  lady  whose  name  is  Miss  Hooker  is  endeavor 
ing  to  improve  my  speech.  Oh,  I  do  so  hope  and 
pray  that  I  shall  speak  well  some  day !  .  .  . 

Mr.  Munsell  spent  last  Sunday  evening  with  us, 
How  you  would  have  enjoyed  hearing  him  tell  about 
Venice  !  His  beautiful  word-pictures  made  us  feel 
as  if  we  were  sitting  in  the  shadow  of  San  Marco, 
dreaming,  or  sailing  upon  the  moonlit  canal.  .  .  . 
I  hope  when  I  visit  Venice,  as  I  surely  shall  some 
day,  that  Mr.  Munsell  will  go  with  me.  That  is  my 
castle  in  the  air.  You  see,  none  of  my  friends 
describe  things  to  me  so  vividly  and  so  beautifully 
as  he  does. 


Her  visit  to  the  World's  Fair  she  described  in 
a  letter  to  Mr.  John  P.  Spaulding,  which  was  pub 
lished  in  St.  Nicholas,  and  is  much  like  the  following 
letter.  In  a  prefatory  note  which  Miss  Sullivan  wrote 
for  St.  Nicholas,  she  says  that  people  frequently 
said  to  her,  "Helen  sees  more  with  her  fingers 
than  we  do  with  our  eyes."  The  President  of  the 
Exposition  gave  her  this  letter : 


To  THE  CHIEFS  OF  THE  DEPARTMENTS  AND  OFFICERS 

IN   CHARGE   OF   BUILDINGS   AND   EXHIBITS. 

GENTLEMEN — The  bearer,  Miss  Helen  Keller, 
accompanied  by  Miss  Sullivan,  is  desirous  of  mak 
ing  a  complete  inspection  of  the  Exposition  in  all 


jiet.  13]  LETTERS  219 

Departments.  She  is  blind  and  deaf,  but  is  able 
to  converse,  and  is  introduced  to  me  as  one  having 
a  wonderful  ability  to  understand  the  objects  she 
visits,  and  as  being  possessed  of  a  high  order  of 
intelligence  and  of  culture  beyond  her  years.  Please 
favour  her  with  every  facility  to  examine  the 
exhibits  in  the  several  Departments,  and  extend 
to  her  such  other  courtesies  as  may  be  possible. 

Thanking   you  in  advance    for  the  same,  I  am, 
with  respect, 

Very  truly  yours, 
(signed)   H.  N.  HIGINBOTHAM, 

President. 


TO  MISS  CAROLINE  DERBY 

HULTON,  PENN.,  August  17, 1893. 
,  „  .  Every  one  at  the  Fair  was  very  kind 
to  me.  .  .  Nearly  all  of  the  exhibitors  seemed 
perfectly  willing  to  let  me  touch  the  most  delicate 
things,  and  they  were  very  nice  about  explaining 
everything  to  me.  A  French  gentleman,  whose 
name  I  cannot  remember,  showed  me  the  great 
French  bronzes.  I  believe  they  gave  me  more 
pleasure  than  anything  else  at  the  Fair:  they 
were  so  lifelike  and  wonderful  to  my  touch. 
Dr.  Bell  went  with  us  himself  to  the  electrical 
building,  and  showed  us  some  of  the  histori 
cal  telephones.  I  saw  the  one  through  which 
Emperor  Dom  Pedro  listened  to  the  words, 
"To  be,  or  not  to  be,"  at  the  Centennial.  Dr. 
Gillett  of  Illinois  took  us  to  the  Liberal  Arts  and 
Woman's  buildings.  In  the  former  I  visited  Tiffany's 


220  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  [Aug.  i7t  >& 

exhibit,  and  held  the  beautiful  Tiffany  diamond, 
which  is  valued  at  one  hundred  thousand  dollars, 
and  touched  many  other  rare  and  costly  things. 
I  sat  in  King  Ludwig's  armchair  and  felt  like  a 
queen  when  Dr.  Gillett  remarked  that  I  had 
many  loyal  subjects.  At  the  Woman's  building 
we  met  the  Princess  Maria  Schaovskoy  of  Russia, 
and  a  beautiful  Syrian  lady.  I  liked  them  both  very 
much.  I  went  to  the  Japanese  department  with 
Prof.  Morse  who  is  a  well-known  lecturer.  I  never 
realized  what  a  wonderful  people  the  Japanese 
are  until  I  saw  their  most  interesting  exhibit.  Japan 
must  indeed  be  a  paradise  for  children  to  judge 
from  the  great  number  of  playthings  which  are 
manufactured  there.  The  queer-looking  Japanese 
musical  instruments,  and  their  beautiful  works  of 
art  were  interesting.  The  Japanese  books  are  very 
odd.  There  are  forty-seven  letters  in  their  alpha 
bets.  Prof.  Morse  knows  a  great  deal  about  Japan, 
and  is  very  kind  and  wise.  He  invited  me  to 
visit  his  museum  in  Salem  the  next  time  I  go  to 
Boston.  But  I  think  I  enjoyed  the  sails  on  the 
tranquil  lagoon,  and  the  lovely  scenes,  as  my  friends 
described  them  to  me,  more  than  anything  else  at 
the  Fair.  Once,  while  we  were  out  on  the  water, 
the  sun  went  down  over  the  rim  of  the  earth,  and 
threw  a  soft,  rosy  light  over  the  White  City,  making 
it  look  more  than  ever  like  Dreamland.  .  . 

Of  course,  we  visited  the  Midway  Plaisance.  It 
was  a  bewildering  and  fascinating  place.  I  went 
into  the  streets  of  Cairo,  and  rode  on  the  camel. 
That  was  fine  fun.  We  also  rode  in  the  Ferris 
wheel,  and  on  the  ice-railway,  and  had  a  sail  in  the 
Whaleback. 


Aft.  i j]  LETTERS  221 

In  the  spring  of  1893  a  club  was  started  in 
Tuscumbia,  of  which  Mrs.  Keller  was  president,  \o 
establish  a  public  library.  Miss  Keller  says : 

"I  wrote  to  my  friends  about  the  work  and  enlisted 
their  sympathy.  Several  hundred  books,  including 
many  fine  ones,  were  sent  to  me  in  a  short  time,  as 
well  as  money  and  encouragement.  This  generous 
assistance  encouraged  the  ladies,  and  they  have 
gone  on  collecting  and  buying  books  ever  since, 
until  now  they  have  a  very  respectable  public 
library  in  the  town. " 


TO    MRS.    CHARLES    E.    INCHES 

HULTON,  PENN.,  Oct.  21,  1893. 

%  .  .  We  spent  September  at  home  in  Tus 
cumbia  .  .  .  and  were  all  very  happy  together, 
.  Our  quiet  mountain  home  was  especially 
attractive  and  restful  after  the  excitement  and 
fatigue  of  our  visit  to  the  World's  Fair.  We  enjoved 
the  beauty  and  solitude  of  the  hills  more  than  ever. 

And  now  we  are  in  Hulton,  Penn.  again  where  I 
am  going  to  study  this  winter  with  a  tutor  assisted 
by  my  dear  teacher.  I  study  Arithmetic,  Latin  and 
literature.  I  enjoy  my  lessons  very  much.  It  is  so 
pleasant  to  learn  about  new  things.  Every  day  I 
find  how  little  I  know,  but  I  do  not  feel  discouraged 
since  God  has  given  me  an  eternity  in  which  to  learn 
more.  In  literature  I  am  studying  Longfellow's 
poetry.  I  know  a  great  deal  of  it  by  heart,  for  I 
loved  it  long  before  I  knew  a  metaphor  from  a 
synecdoche.  I  used  to  say  I  did  not  like  arith 
metic  very  well,  but  now  I  have  changed  my  mind 


222  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE   [Oct.  21^93 

I  see  what  a  good  and  useful  study  it  is,  though  I 
must  confess  my  mind  wanders  from  it  sometimes ! 
for,  nice  and  useful  as  arithmetic  is,  it  is  not  a? 
interesting  as  a  beautiful  poem  or  a  lovely  story. 
But  bless  me,  how  time  does  fly.  I  have  only  a  few 
moments  left  in  which  to  answer  your  questions 
about  the  "Helen  Keller"  Public  Library. 

i.  I  think  there  are  about  3,000  people  in 
Tuscumbia,  Ala.,  and  perhaps  half  of  them  are 
colored  people.  2.  At  present  there  is  no  library 
of  any  sort  in  the  town.  That  is  why  I  thought 
about  starting  one.  My  mother  and  several  of  my 
lady  friends  said  they  would  help  me,  and  they 
formed  a  club,  the  object  of  which  is  to  work  for  the 
establishment  of  a  free  public  library  in  Tuscumbia. 
They  have  now  about  100  books  and  about  $55  in 
money,  and  a  kind  gentleman  has  given  us  land  on 
?vhich  to  erect  a  library  building.  But  in  the  mean 
time  the  club  has  rented  a  little  room  in  a  central 
part  of  the  town,  and  the  books  which  we  already 
have  are  free  to  all.  3.  Only  a  few  of  my  kind, 
friends  in  Boston  know  anything  about  the  library. 
I  did  not  like  to  trouble  them  while  I  was  trying  to 
get  money  for  poor  little  Tommy ;  for  of  course  it  was 
more  important  that  he  should  be  educated  than 
that  my  people  should  have  books  to  read.  4.  I  do 
not  know  what  books  we  have,  but  I  think  it  is  a 
miscellaneous  (I  think  that  is  the  word)  collec 
tion.  .  .  . 

P.  S.  My  teacher  thinks  it  would  be  more  busi 
nesslike  to  say  that  a  list  of  the  contributors  toward 
the  building  fund  will  be  kept  and  published  in  my 
father's  paper,  the  "  North  Alabamian." 

H.  1C 


A*.*  31  LETTERS  223 

TO    MISS    CAROLINE    DERBY 

HULTON,  PENN.,  December  28,  1893. 
.  .  .  Please  thank  dear  Miss  Derby  for  me 
for  the  pretty  shield  which  she  sent  me.  It  is  a  very 
interesting  souvenir  of  Columbus,  and  of  the  Fair 
VVhite  City;  but  I  cannot  imagine  what  discoveries 
I  have  made, — I  mean  new  discoveries.  We  are  all 
discoverers  in  one  sense,  being  born  quite  ignorant 
of  all  things;  but  I  hardly  think  that  is  what  she 
meant.  Tell  her  she  must  explain  why  I  am  a 
discoverer. 


TO    DR.     EDWARD    EVERETT    HALE 

HULTON,  PENNSYLVANIA,  January  14,  [1894]. 
My  dear  Cousin :  I  had  thought  to  write  to  you 
long  before  this  in  answer  to  your  kind  letter  which 
I  was  so  glad  to  receive,  and  to  thank  you  for  the 
beautiful  little  book  which  you  sent  me ;  but  I  have 
been  very  busy  since  the  beginning  of  the  New  Year. 
The  publication  of  my  little  story  in  the  Youth's 
Companion  has  brought  me  a  large  number  of  letters, 
—last  week  I  received  sixty-one ! — and  besides 
replying  to  some  of  these  letters,  I  have  many  lessons 
to  learn,  among  them  Arithmetic  and  Latin;  and, 
you  know,  Caesar  is  Caesar  still,  imperious  and 
tyrannical,  and  if  a  little  girl  would  understand  so 
great  a  man,  and  the  wars  and  conquests  of  which 
he  tells  in  his  beautiful  Latin  language,  she  must 
study  much  and  think  much,  and  study  and  thought 
require  time. 


224  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE    [Oct.  23,  •& 

I  shall  prize  the  little  book  always,  not  only  for  its 
own  value ;  but  because  of  its  associations  with  you. 
It  is  a  delight  to  think  of  you  as  the  giver  of  one  of 
your  books  into  which,  I  am  sure,  you  have  wrought 
your  own  thoughts  and  feelings,  and  I  thank  you 
very  much  for  remembering  me  in  such  a  very 
beautiful  way.  .  .  . 


In  February  Helen  and  Miss  Sullivan  returned  to 
Tuscumbia.  They  spent  the  rest  of  the  spring  read 
ing  and  studying.  In  the  summer  they  attended 
the  meeting  at  Chautauqua  of  the  American 
Association  for  the  Promotion  of  the  Teaching  of 
Speech  to  the  Deaf,  where  Miss  Sullivan  read  a 
paper  on  Helen  Keller's  education. 

In  the  Tall  Helen  and  Miss  Sullivan  entered  the 
Wright -Humason  School  in  New  York,  which  makes 
a  specialty  of  lip-reading  and  voice-culture.  The 
"singing  lessons"  were  to  strengthen  her  voice. 
She  had  taken  a  few  piano  lessons  at  the  Perkins 
Institution.  The  experiment  was  interesting,  but 
Df  course  came  to  little. 


TO  MISS  CAROLINE  DERBY 

THE  WRIGHT-HUMASON  SCHOOL. 

42  West  76th  St. 
NEW  YORK.  Oct.  23,  1894. 

.  .  .  The  school  is  very  pleasant,  and  bless 
you!  it  is  quite  fashionable.  ...  I  study 
Arithmetic,  English  Literature  and  United  States 


Aet.  14}  LETTERS  22$ 

History  as  I  did  last  winter.  I  also  keep  a  diary. 
I  enjoy  my  singing  lessons  with  Dr.  Humason  more 
than  I  can  say.  I  expect  to  take  piano  lessons 
sometime. 

Last  Saturday  our  kind  teachers  planned  a 
delightful  trip  to  Bedloe's  Island  to  see  Bartholdi's 
great  statue  of  Liberty  enlightening  the  world. 
,  .  .  The  ancient  cannon,  which  look  seaward, 
wear  a  very  menacing  expression;  but  I  doubt  if 
there  is  any  unkindness  in  their  rusty  old  hearts. 

Liberty  is  a  gigantic  figure  of  a  woman  in  Greek 
draperies,  holding  in  her  right  hand  a  torch.  .  .  . 
A  spiral  stairway  leads  from  the  base  of  this  pedestal 
to  the  torch.  We  climbed  up  to  the  head  which 
will  hold  forty  persons,  and  viewed  the  scene  on 
which  Liberty  gazes  day  and  night,  and  O,  how 
•wonderful  it  was  !  We  did  not  wonder  that  the  great 
French  artist  thought  the  place  worthy  to  be  the 
home  of  his  grand  ideal.  The  glorious  bay  lay  calm 
and  beautiful  in  the  October  sunshine,  and  the  ships 
came  and  went  like  idle  dreams ;  those  seaward  going 
slowly  disappeared  like  clouds  that  change  from 
gold  to  gray;  those  homeward  coming  sped  more 
quickly  like  birds  that  seek  their  mother's  nest.  .  .  . 


TO  MISS  CAROLINE  DERBY 

THE  WRIGHT-HUMASON  SCHOOL. 
NEW   YORK,    March    15,    1895. 
.     .          I  think  I  have  improved  a  little  in  lip- 
fading,  though  I  still  find  it  verv  difficult  to  read 


a26  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  [Mar.  15,  '95 

rapid  speech ;  but  I  am  sure  I  shall  succeed  some  day 
if  I  only  persevere.  Dr.  Humason  is  still  trying  to 
improve  my  speech.  Oh,  Carrie,  how  I  should 
like  to  speak  like  other  people  !  I  should  be  willing 
to  work  night  and  day  if  it  could  only  be  accom 
plished.  Think  what  a  joy  it  would  be  to  all  of  my 
friends  to  hear  me  speak  naturally  ! !  I  wonder  why 
it  is  so  difficult  and  perplexing  for  a  deaf  child  to 
learn  to  speak  when  it  is  so  easy  for  other  people; 
but  I  am  sure  I  shall  speak  perfectly  some  time  if  I 
am  only  patient.  .  .  . 

Although  I  have  been  so  busy,  I  have  found  time 
to  read  a  good  deal.  ...  I  have  lately  read 
"  Wilhelm  Tell"  by  Schiller,  and  "  The  Lost  Vestal. " 
.  .  .  Now  I  am  reading  "Nathan  the  Wise"  by 
Lessing  and  "  King  Arthur"  by  Miss  Mulock. 

.  You  know  our  kind  teachers  take  us  to 
see  everything  which  they  think  will  interest  us, 
and  we  learn  a  great  deal  in  that  delightful  way. 
On  George  Washington's  birthday  we  all  went  to 
the  Dog  Show,  and  although  there  was  a  great  crowd 
in  the  Madison  Square  Garden,  and  despite  the 
bewilderment  caused  by  the  variety  of  sounds  made 
by  the  dog-orchestra,  which  was  very  confusing  to 
those  who  could  hear  them,  we  enjoyed  the  after 
noon  very  much.  Among  the  dogs  which  received 
the  most  attention  were  the  bull-dogs.  They  per 
mitted  themselves  startling  liberties  when  any  onO 
caressed  them,  crowding  themselves  almost  into 
one's  arms  and  helping  themselves  without  ceremony 
to  kisses,  apparently  unconscious  of  the  impropriety 
of  their  conduct.  Dear  me,  what  unbeautiful  little 
beasts  they  are  !  But  they  are  so  good  natured  and 
friendly,  one  cannot  help  liking  them. 


Aet.i4  LETTERS  227 

Dr.  Humason,  Teacher,  and  I  left  the  others  at 
the  Dog  Show  and  went  to  a  reception  given  by 
the  "  Metropolitan  Club/'  .  .  .  It  is  sometimes 
called  the  "Millionaires'  Club."  The  building  is 
magnificent,  being  built  of  white  marble ;  the  rooms 
are  large  and  splendidly  furnished;  but  I  must 
confess,  so  much  splendor  is  rather  oppressive  to 
me ;  and  I  didn't  envy  the  millionaires  in  the  least 
all  the  happiness  their  gorgeous  surroundings 
supposed  to  bring  them.  .  .  . 


TO    MRS.    KATE    ADAMS    KELLER 

NEW  YORK,  March  31,  1895. 
.  .  .  Teacher  and  I  spent  the  afternoon  at 
Mr.  Hutton's,  and  had  a  most  delightful  time ! 
.  .  .  We  met  Mr.  Clemens  and  Mr.  Howells 
there !  I  had  known  about  them  for  a  long  time ; 
but  I  had  never  thought  that  I  should  see  them, 
and  talk  to  them;  and  I  can  scarcely  realize  now 
that  this  great  pleasure  has  been  mine !  But, 
much  as  I  wonder  that  I,  only  a  little  girl  of  fourteen, 
should  come  in  contact  with  so  many  distinguished 
people,  I  do  realize  that  I  am  a  very  happy  child, 
and  very  grateful  for  the  many  beautiful  privileges 
I  have  enjoyed.  The  two  distinguished  authors 
were  very  gentle  and  kind,  and  I  could  not  tell 
which  of  them  I  loved  best.  Mr.  Clemens  told 
us  many  entertaining  stories,  and  made  us  laugh 
till  we  cried.  I  only  wish  you  could  have  seen  and 
heard  him  !  He  told  us  that  he  would  go  to  Europe 


228  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  (Mar.  31,  >& 

in  a  few  days  to  bring  his  wife  and  his  daughter, 
Jeanne,  back  to  America,  because  Jeanne,  who  is 
studying  in  Paris,  has  learned  so  much  in  three 
years  and  a  half  that  if  he  did  not  bring  her  home, 
she  would  soon  know  more  than  he  did.  I  think 
Mark  Twain  is  a  very  appropriate  nom  de  plume  for 
Mr.  Clemens  because  it  has  a  funny  and  quaint 
sound,  and  goes  well  with  his  amusing  writings,  and 
its  nautical  significance  suggests  the  deep  and 
beautiful  things  that  he  has  written.  I  think  he 
is  very  handsome  indeed.  .  .  .  Teacher  said 
she  thought  he  looked  something  like  Paradeuski. 
(If  that  is  the  way  to  spell  the  name.)  Mr.  Howells 
told  me  a  little  about  Venice,  which  is  one  of  his 
favorite  cities,  and  spoke  very  tenderly  of  his  dear 
little  girl,  Winnifred,  who  is  now  with  God.  He 
has  another  daughter,  named  Mildred,  who  knows 
Carrie.  I  might  have  seen  Mrs.  Wiggin,  the  sweet 
author  of  "Birds'  Christmas  Carol,"  but  she  had 
a  dangerous  cough  and  could  not  come.  I  was 
much  disappointed  not  to  see  her ;  but  I  hope  I  shall 
have  that  pleasure  some  other  time.  Mr.  Hutton 
gave  me  a  lovely  little  glass,  shaped  like  a  thistle, 
which  belonged  to  his  dear  mother,  as  a  souvenir 
of  my  delightful  visit.  We  also  met  Mr.  Rogers 
4  .  .  who  kindly  left  his  carriage  to  bring  us 
home. 


When  the  Wright-Humason  School  closed  for  the 
summer,  Miss  Sullivan  and  Helen  went  South. 


A*.  15}  LETTERS  219 

TO   MRS.    LAURENCE    BUTTON 

TUSCUMBIA,  ALABAMA,  July  29,  1895 

.  .  .  I  am  spending  my  vacation  very  quietly 
and  pleasantly  at  my  beautiful,  sunny  home,  with 
my  loving  parents,  my  darling  little  sister  and  my 
small  brother,  Phillips  My  precious  teacher  is 
with  me  too,  and  so  of  course  I  am  happy  I  read 
a  little,  walk  a  little,  write  a  little  and  play  with  the 
children  a  great  deal,  and  the  days  slip  by  delight 
fully !  .  .  . 

My  friends  are  so  pleased  with  the  improvement 
which  I  made  in  speech  and  lip-reading  last  year, 
that  it  has  been  decided  best  for  me  to  continue  my 
studies  in  New  York  another  year  I  am  delighted 
at  the  prospect  of  spending  another  year  in  yout 
great  city  I  used  to  think  that  I  should  never 
feel  "at  home"  in  New  York;  but  since  I  have  made 
the  acquaintance  of  so  many  people,  and  can  look 
back  to  such  a  bright  and  successful  winter  there, 
I  find  myself  looking  forward  to  next  year,  and 
anticipating  still  brighter  and  better  times  in  the 
Metropolis 

Please  give  my  kindest  love  to  Mr  Button,  and 
Mrs  Riggs  and  Mr  Warner  too,  although  I  have 
never  had  the  pleasure  of  knowing  him  personally 
As  I  listen  Venicewards,  I  hear  Mr  Hutton's  pen 
dancing  over  the  pages  of  his  new  book  It  is  a 
pleasant  sound  because  it  is  full  of  promise  How 
much  I  shall  enjoy  reading  it ! 

Please  pardon  me,  my  dear  Mrs  Hutton,  for  send 
ing  you  a  typewritten  letter  across  the  ocean  I 
have  tried  several  times  to  write  with  a  pencil  on 
rny  little  writing  machine  since  I  came  home;  but 
"  have  found  it  very  difficult  to  do  so  on  account  of 


230  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  [Oct.  i6t  'P3 

the  heat  The  moisture  of  my  hand  soils  and  blurs 
the  paper  so  dreadfully,  that  I  am  compelled  to 
use  my  typewriter  altogether  And  it  is  not  my 
4 'Remington"  either,  but  a  naughty  little  thing 
that  gets  out  of  order  on  the  slightest  provocation, 
and  cannot  be  induced  to  make  a  period  .  .  . 


TO   MRS.    WILLIAM   THAW 

NEW  YORK,  October  16,  1895. 
Here  we  are  once  more  in  the  great  metropolis  1 
We  left  Hulton  Friday  night  and  arrived  here 
Saturday  morning.  Our  friends  were  greatly  sur 
prised  to  see  us,  as  they  had  not  expected  us  before 
the  last  of  this  month.  I  rested  Saturday  afternoon, 
for  I  was  very  tired,  and  Sunday  I  visited  with  my 
schoolmates,  and  now  that  I  feel  quite  rested,  I 
am  going  to  write  to  you ;  for  I  know  you  will  want 
to  hear  that  we  reached  New  York  safely.  We 
had  to  change  cars  at  Philadelphia ;  but  we  did  not 
mind  it  much.  After  we  had  had  our  breakfast, 
Teacher  asked  one  of  the  train-men  in  the  station  if 
the  New  York  train  was  made  up.  He  said  no,  it 
would  not  be  called  for  about  fifteen  minutes;  so 
we  sat  down  to  wait ;  but  in  a  moment  the  man  came 
back  and  asked  Teacher  if  we  would  like  to  go  to  the 
train  at  once.  She  said  we  would,  and  he  took 
rus  way  out  on  the  track  and  put  us  on  board  our 
train.  Thus  we  avoided  the  rush  and  had  a  nice 
quiet  visit  before  the  train  started.  Was  that  not 
very  kind  ?  So  it  always  is.  Some  one  is  ever  ready 
to  scatter  little  acts  of  kindness  along  our  pathway, 
making  it  smooth  and  pleasant  .  *  - 


Aet.  J5]  LETTERS  231 

We  had  a  quiet  but  very  pleasant  time  in  Hulton. 
Mr.  Wade  is  just  as  dear  and  good  as  ever!  He  has 
lately  had  several  books  printed  in  England  for  me, 
"Old  Mortality,"  "The  Castle  of  Otranto"  and 
"King  of  No-land."  .  .  . 


TO   MISS   CAROLINE   DERBY 

NEW  YORK,  December  29,  1895. 
.  .  .  Teacher  and  I  have  been  very  gay  of  late. 
We  have  seen  our  kind  friends,  Mrs.  Dodge,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Hutton,  Mrs.  Riggs  and  her  husband,  and  met 
many  distinguished  people,  among  whom  were  Miss 
Ellen  Terry,  Sir  Henry  Irving  and  Mr.  Stockton! 
Weren't  we  very  fortunate?  Miss  Terry  was  lovely. 
She  kissed  Teacher  and  said,  "  I  do  not  know  whether 
I  am  glad  to  see  you  or  not ;  for  I  feel  so  ashamed  of 
myself  when  I  think  of  how  much  you  have  done 
for  the  little  girl."  We  also  met  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Terry, 
Miss  Terry's  brother  and  his  wife.  I  thought  her 
beauty  angellic,  and  oh,  what  a  clear,  beautiful  voice 
she  had!  We  saw  Miss  Terry  again  with  Sir  Henry 
in  "King  Charles  the  First,"  a  week  ago  last  Friday, 
and  after  the  play  they  kindly  let  me  feel  of  them 
and  get  an  idea  of  how  they  looked.  How  noble  and 
kingly  the  King  was,  especially  in  his  misfortunes! 
And  how  pretty  and  faithful  the  poor  Queen  was! 
The  play  seemed  so  real,  we  almost  forgot  where  we 
were,  and  believed  we  were  watching  the  genuine 
scenes  as  they  were  acted  so  long  ago.  The  last  act 
affected  us  most  deeply,  and  we  all  wept,  wondering 
how  the  executioner  could  have  the  heart  to  tear 
the  King  from  his  loving  wife's  arms. 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE    [Feb.  4,  '<>6 

I  have  just  finished  reading  "  Ivanhoe. "  It  wat 
very  exciting ;  but  I  must  say  I  did  not  enjoy  it  very 
much.  Sweet  Rebecca,  with  her  strong,  brave 
spirit  and  her  pure,  generous  nature,  was  the  only 
character  which  thoroughly  won  my  admiration. 
Now  I  am  reading  "Stories  from  Scottish  History/* 
and  they  are  very  thrilling  and  absorbing !  .  .  . 


The  next  two  letters  were  written  just  after  tha 
death  of  Mr.  John  P.  Spaulding. 


TO  MRS.  GEORGE  H.  BRADFORD 

NEW  YORK,  February  4,  1896. 
What  can  I  say  which  will  make  you  understand 
how  much  Teacher  and  I  appreciate  your  thoughtful 
kindness  in  sending  us  those  little  souvenirs  of  the 
dear  room  where  we  first  met  the  best  and  kindest 
of  friends?  Indeed,  you  can  never  know  all  the 
comfort  you  have  given  us.  We  have  put  the  dear 
picture  on  the  mantel-piece  in  our  room  where  we 
can  see  it  every  day,  and  I  often  go  and  touch  it, 
and  somehow  I  cannot  help  feeling  that  our  beloved 
friend  is  very  near  to  me.  ...  It  was  very 
hard  to  take  up  our  school  work  again,  as  if 
nothing  had  happened;  but  I  am  sure  it  is  well 
that  we  have  duties  which  must  be  done,  and 
which  take  our  minds  away  for  a  time  at  least 
from  our  sorrow.  »  * 


4*.  75]  LETTERS  233 

TO  MISS  CAROLINE  DERBY 

NEW  YORK,  March  2nd,   1896. 
„     We  miss   dear  King  John   sadly.      It 
was  so  hard  to   lose  him,   he  was  the  best   and 
kindest   of  friends,  and  I  do  not  know  what  we 
shall  do  without  him.     .     .     . 

We  went  to  a  poultry-show  .  .  .  and  the 
man  there  kindly  permitted  us  to  feel  of  the  birds. 
They  were  so  tame,  they  stood  perfectly  still 
when  I  handled  them.  I  saw  great  big  turkeys, 
geese,  guineas,  ducks  and  many  others. 

Almost  two  weeks  ago  we  called  at  Mr.  Hutton's 
and  had  a  delightful  time.  We  always  do !  We 
met  Mr.  Warner,  the  writer,  Mr.  Mabie,  the  editor  of 
the  Outlook  and  other  pleasant  people.  I  am 
sure  you  would  like  to  know  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hutton, 
they  are  so  kind  and  interesting.  I  can  never  tell 
you  how  much  pleasure  they  have  given  us. 

Mr.  Warner  and  Mr.  Burroughs,  the  great  lover  of 
nature,  came  to  see  us  a  few  days  after,  and  we  had  a 
delightful  talk  with  them.  They  were  both  very, 
very  dear  !  Mr.  Burroughs  told  me  about  his  home 
near  the  Hudson,  and  what  a  happy  place  it  must  be  ! 
I  hope  we  shall  visit  it  some  day.  Teacher  has  read 
me  his  lively  stories  about  his  boyhood,  and  I 
enjoyed  them  greatly.  Have  you  read  the  beautiful 
poem,  "  Waiting"  ?  I  know  it,  and  it  makes  me  feel 
so  happy,  it  has  such  sweet  thoughts.  Mr.  Warner 
showed  me  a  scarf-pin  with  a  beetle  on  it  which  was 
made  in  Egypt  fifteen  hundred  years  before  Christ, 
and  told  me  that  the  beetle  meant  immortality  to 
the  Egyptians  because  it  wrapped  itself  up  and  went 
to  sleep  and  came  out  again  in  a  new  form,  thus 
renewing  itself.  -.  . 


234  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  \juiy  i5,  ><# 

TO    MISS    CAROLINE   DERBY 

NEW  YORK,  April  25,  1896. 
.  .  .  My  studies  are  the  same  as  they  were 
when  I  saw  you,  except  that  I  have  taken  up  French 
with  a  French  teacher  who  conies  three  times  a  week. 
I  read  her  lips  almost  exclusively,  (she  does  not  know 
the  manual  alphabet)  and  we  get  on  quite  well.  I 
have  read  "Le  Medecin  Malgre  Lui,"  a  very  good 
French  comedy  by  Moliere,  with  pleasure ;  and  they 
say  I  speak  French  pretty  well  now,  and  German 
also.  Anyway,  French  and  German  people  under 
stand  what  I  am  trying  to  say,  and  that  is  very 
encouraging.  In  voice-training  I  have  still  the  same 
old  difficulties  to  contend  against ;  and  the  fulfilment 
of  my  wish  to  speak  well  seems  O,  so  far  away! 
Sometimes  I  feel  sure  that  I  catch  a  faint  glimpse  of 
the  goal  I  am  striving  for ;  but  in  another  minute  a 
bend  in  the  road  hides  it  from  my  view,  and  I  am 
again  left  wandering  in  the  dark !  But  I  try  hard 
not  to  be  discouraged.  Surely  we  shall  all  find  at 
last  the  ideals  we  are  seeking.  .  .  . 


TO    MR.    JOHN    HITZ 

BREWSTER,  MASS.  July  15,  1896. 

.  «  .  As  to  the  book,  I  am  sure  I  shall  enjoy  it 
very  much  when  I  am  admitted,  by  the  magic  of 
Teacher's  dear  fingers,  into  the  companionship  of 
the  two  sisters  who  went  to  the  Immortal  Fountain. 

As  I  sit  by  the  window  writing  to  you,  it  is  so 
lovely  to  have  the  soft,  cool  breezes  fan  my  cheek. 


Aet.  16}  LETTERS  235 

and  to  feel  that  the  hard  work  of  last  year  is  over! 
Teacher  seems  to  feel  benefited  by  the  change  too; 
for  she  is  already  beginning  to  look  like  her  dear  old 
self.  We  only  need  you,  dear  Mr.  Hitz,  to  complete 
our  happiness.  Teacher  and  Mrs.  Hopkins  both 
say  you  must  come  as  soon  as  you  can!  We  will 
try  to  make  you  comfortable. 

Teacher  and  I  spent  nine  days  at  Philadelphia. 
Have  you  ever  been  at  Dr.  Crouter's  Institution? 
Mr.  Howes  has  probably  given  you  a  full  account  of 
our  doings.  We  were  busy  all  the  time;  we  attended 
the  meetings  and  talked  with  hundreds  of  people, 
among  whom  were  dear  Dr.  Bell,  Mr.  Banerji  of 
Calcutta,  Monsieur  Magnat  of  Paris  with  whom  I 
conversed  in  French  exclusively,  and  many  other 
distinguished  persons.  We  had  looked  forward  to 
seeing  you  there,  and  so  we  were  greatly  disap 
pointed  that  you  did  not  come.  We  think  of  you  so, 
so  often!  and  our  hearts  go  out  to  you  in  tenderest 
sympathy ;  and  you  know  better  than  this  poor  letter 
can  tell  you  how  happy  we  always  are  to  have  you 
with  us!  I  made  a  "speech"  on  July  eighth,  telling 
the  members  of  the  Association  what  an  unspeakable 
blessing  speech  has  been  to  me,  and  urging  them  to 
give  every  little  deaf  child  an  opportunity  to  learn 
to  speak.*  Every  one  said  I  spoke  very  well  and 
intelligibly.  After  my  little  "speech,"  we  attended 
a  reception  at  which  over  six  hundred  people  were 
present.  I  must  confess  I  do  not  like  such  large 
receptions;  the  people  crowd  so,  and  we  have  to  do 
so  much  talking;  and  yet  it  is  at  receptions  like 
the  one  in  Philadelphia  that  we  often  meet  friends 
whom  we  learn  to  love  afterwards.  We  left  the  city 
last  Thursday  night,  and  arrived  in  Brewster 

*See  page  392. 


236  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE    is***. 3,'fr 

Friday  afternoon.  We  missed  the  Cape  Cod  train 
Friday  morning,  and  so  we  came  down  to  Province- 
town  in  the  steamer  Longfellow.  I  am  glad  we  did 
so;  for  it  was  lovely  and  cool  on  the  water,  and 
Boston  Harbor  is  always  interesting. 

We  spent  about  three  weeks  in  Boston,  after 
leaving  New  York,  and  I  need  not  tell  you  we  had  a 
most  delightful  time.  We  visited  our  good  friends, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Chamberlin,  at  Wrentham,  out  in  the 
country,  where  they  have  a  lovely  home.  Their 
house  stands  near  a  charming  lake  where  we  went 
boating  and  canoeing,  which  was  great  fun.  We 
also  went  in  bathing  several  times.  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Chamberlin  celebrated  the  1 7th  of  June  by  giving  a 
picnic  to  their  literary  friends.  There  were  about 
forty  persons  present,  all  of  whom  were  writers  and 
publishers.  Our  friend,  Mr.  Alden,  the  editor  of 
Harper's  was  there,  and  of  course  we  enjoyed  his 
society  very  much.  .  .  . 


TO  CHARLES  DUDLEY  WARNER 

BREWSTER,  MASS.,  September  3,  1896. 
.  .  .  I  have  been  meaning  to  write  to  you  all 
summer;  there  were  many  things  I  wanted  to  tell 
you,  and  I  thought  perhaps  you  would  like  to  hear 
about  our  vacation  by  the  seaside,  and  our  plans  for 
next  year ;  but  the  happy,  idle  days  slipped  away  so 
quickly,  and  there  were  so  many  pleasant  things  to 
do  every  moment,  that  I  never  found  time  to  clothe 
iny  thought  in  words,  and  send  them  to  you.  i 


Aet.ift  LETTERS  237 

wonder  what  becomes  of  lost  opportunities.  Per 
haps  our  guardian  angel  gathers  them  up  as  we  drop 
them,  and  will  give  them  back  to  us  in  the  beautiful 
sometime  when  we  have  grown  wiser,  and  learned 
how  to  use  them  rightly.  But,  however  this  may  be, 
I  cannot  now  write  the  letter  which  has  lain  in  my 
thought  for  you  so  long.  My  heart  is  too  full  of 
sadness  to  dwell  upon  the  happiness  the  summer  has 
brought  me.  My  father  is  dead.  He  died  last 
Saturday  at  my  home  in  Tuscumbia,  and  I  was  not 
there.  My  own  dear  loving  father !  Oh,  deaf 
friend,  how  shall  I  ever  bear  it ! 


On  the  first  of  October  Miss  Keller  entered  the 
Cambridge  School  for  Young  Ladies,  of  which  Mr. 
Arthur  Gilman  is  Principal.  The  "examinations" 
mentioned  in  this  letter  were  merely  tests  given  in 
the  school,  but  as  they  were  old  Harvard  papers,  it 
is  evident  that  in  some  subjects  Miss  Keller  was 
already  fairly  well  prepared  for  Radcliffe. 


TO  MRS.  LAURENCE  BUTTON 

37  CONCORD  AVENUE,  CAMBRIDGE,  MASS. 

October  8,  1896. 

.  .  .  I  got  up  early  this  morning,  so  that  I 
could  write  you  a  few  lines.  I  know  you  want  to 
hear  how  I  like  my  school.  I  do  wish  you  could 
come  and  see  for  yourself  what  a  beautiful  school 
it  is!  There  are  about  a  hundred  girls,  and  they  are 
all  so  bright  and  happy;  it  is  a  joy  to  be  with  them. 


238  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

You  will  be  glad  to  hear  that  I  passed  my  examina/ 
tions  successfully.  I  have  been  examined  in  English 
German,  French,  and  Greek  and  Roman  history. 
They  were  the  entrance  examinations  for  Harvard 
College ;  so  I  feel  pleased  to  think  I  could  pass  them. 
This  year  is  going  to  be  a  very  busy  one  for  Teacher 
and  myself.  I  am  studying  Arithmetic,  English 
Literature,  English  History,  German,  Latin,  and 
advanced  geography ;  there  is  a  great  deal  of  prepara 
tory  reading  required,  and,  as  few  of  the  books  are 
in  raised  print,  poor  Teacher  has  to  spell  them  all  out 
to  me ;  and  that  means  hard  work. 

You  must  tell  Mr.  Howells  when  you  see  him,  that 
we  are  living  in  his  house.  .  .  . 


TO  MRS.  WILLIAM  THAW 

37  CONCORD  AVENUE,  CAMBRIDGE,  MASS., 

December  2,   1896. 

It  takes  me  a  long  time  to  prepare  my 
lessons,  because  I  have  to  have  every  word  of  them 
spelled  out  in  my  hand.  Not  one  of  the  text 
books  which  I  am  obliged  to  use  is  in  raised  print; 
so  of  course  my  work  is  harder  than  it  would  be 
if  I  could  read  my  lessons  over  by  myself.  But  it 
is  harder  for  Teacher  than  it  is  for  me  because  the 
strain  on  her  poor  eyes  is  so  great,  and  I  cannot  help 
worrying  about  them.  Sometimes  it  really  seems 
as  if  the  task  which  we  have  set  ourselves  were 
niore  than  we  can  accomplish ;  but  at  other  times 
.1  enjoy  my  work  more  than  I  can  say. 

Jt  is  such  a  delight  to  be  with  the  other  girls,  and 


A*,  iff]  LETTERS  239 

do  everything  that  they  do.  I  study  Latin,  German, 
Arithmetic  and  English  History,  all  of  which  I  enjoy 
except  Arithmetic.  I  am  afraid  I  have  not  a  mathe 
matical  mind ;  for  my  figures  always  manage  to  get 
into  the  wrong  places  1  ... 


TO    MRS.    LAURENCE    HUTTON 

CAMBRIDGE,  MASS.,  May  3,   1897. 

.  .  .  You  know  I  am  trying  very  hard  to  get 
through  with  the  reading  for  the  examinations  in 
June,  and  this,  in  addition  to  my  regular  school- 
work  keeps  me  awfully  busy.  But  Johnson,  and 
"The  Plague"  and  everything  else  must  wait  a 
few  minutes  this  afternoon,  while  I  say,  thank  you, 
my  dear  Mrs.  Hutton. 

.  .  .  What  a  splendid  time  we  had  at  the 
"  Players'  Club "  I  always  thought  clubs  were 
dull,  smoky  places,  where  men  talked  politics,  and 
told  endless  stories,  all  about  themselves  and  their 
wonderful  exploits:  but  now  I  see,  I  must  have 
been  quite  wrong.  .  .  . 


TO    MR.    JOHN    HITZ 

WRENTHAM,  MASS.  July  9,  1897. 
.  .  .  Teacher  and  I  are  going  to  spend  the 
summer  at  Wrentham,  Mass,  with  our  friends,  the 
Chamberlins.  I  think  you  remember  Mr.  Chamber- 
lin,  the  "Listener"  in  the  Boston  Transcript.  They 
are  dear,  kind  people.  „  .  . 


a4o  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE    [Feb.  20,  >& 

But  I  know  you  want  to  hear  about  my  examina 
tions.  I  know  that  you  will  be  glad  to  hear  that  3 
passed  all  of  them  successfully.  The  subjects  1 
offered  were  elementary  and  advanced  German, 
French,  Latin,  English,  and  Greek  and  Roman 
History.  It  seems  almost  too  good  to  be  true,  does 
it  not  ?  All  the  time  I  was  preparing  for  the  great 
ordeal,  I  could  not  suppress  an  inward  fear  and 
trembling  lest  I  should  fail,  and  now  it  is  an 
unspeakable  relief  to  know  that  I  have  passed  the 
examinations  with  credit.  But  what  I  consider 
my  crown  of  success  is  the  happiness  and  pleasure 
that  my  victory  has  brought  dear  Teacher.  Indeed, 
I  feel  that  the  success  is  hers  more  than  mine;  for 
she  is  my  constant  inspiration.  .  . 


At  the  end  of  September  Miss  Sullivan  and  Mis* 
Keller  returned  to  the  Cambridge  School,  where 
they  remained  until  early  in  December.  Then  the 
interference  of  Mr.  Gilman  resulted  in  Mrs.  Keller's 
withdrawing  Miss  Helen  and  her  sister,  Miss  Mildred, 
from  the  school.  Miss  Sullivan  and  her  pupil  went 
to  Wrentham,  where  they  worked  under  Mr.  Merton 
S.  Keith,  an  enthusiastic  and  skilful  teacher. 


TO    MRS.    LAURENCE    HUTTON 

WRENTHAM,  February  20,   1898. 
.     .     .     I  resumed  my  studies  soon  after  your 
departure,  and  in  a  very  little  while  we  were  work 
ing  as  merrily  as  if  the  dreadful  experience  of  d 


/*«.  171  LETTERS  241 

month  ago  had  been  but  a  dream.  I  cannot  tell  you 
how  much  I  enjoy  the  country.  It  is  so  fresh,  and 
peaceful  and  free !  I  do  think  I  could  work  all 
day  long  without  feeling  tired  if  they  would  let  me. 
There  are  so  many  pleasant  things  to  do — not  always 
very  easy  things, — much  of  my  work  in  Algebra 
and  Geometry  is  hard:  but  I  love  it  all,  especially 
Greek.  Just  think,  I  shall  soon  finish  my  grammar  I 
Then  comes  the  "Iliad."  What  an  inexpressible 
joy  it  will  be  to  read  about  Achilles,  and  Ulysses, 
and  Andromache  and  Athene,  and  the  rest  of  my 
old  friends  in  their  own  glorious  language  1 !  I  think 
Greek  is  the  loveliest  language  that  I  know  any* 
thing  about.  If  it  is  true  that  the  violin  is  the 
most  perfect  of  musical  instruments,  then  Greek 
is  the  violin  of  human  thought. 

We  have  had  some  splendid  tobogganing  this 
month.  Every  morning,  before  lesson-time,  we 
all  go  out  to  the  steep  hill  on  the  northern  shore  of 
the  lake  near  the  house,  and  coast  for  an  hour  of 
so.  Some  one  balances  the  toboggan  on  the  very 
crest  of  the  hill,  while  we  get  on,  and  when  we  are 
ready,  off  we  dash  down  the  side  of  the  hill  in  a 
headlong  rush,  and,  leaping  a  projection,  plunge 
into  a  snow-drift  and  go  skimming  far  across  the 
pond  at  a  tremendous  rate !  .  .  . 


TO   MRS.    LAURENCE   BUTTON 

[WRENTHAM]  April  12,  1898 
.     .     .     I  am  glad  Mr.  Keith  is  so  well  pleased 
with  my  progress.     It  is  true  that  Algebra  and 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  [Afayap,  v* 

Geometry  are  growing  easier  all  the  time,  especially 
algebra;  and  I  have  just  received  books  in  raised 
print  which  will  greatly  facilitate  my  work.  .  .  . 
I  find  I  get  on  faster,  and  do  better  work  with 
Mr.  Keith  than  I  did  in  the  classes  at  the  Cambridge 
School,  and  I  think  it  was  well  that  I  gave  up  that 
kind  of  work.  At  any  rate,  I  have  not  been  idle 
since  I  left  school;  I  have  accomplished  more,  and 
been  happier  than  I  could  have  been  there.  .  .  « 


TO  MRS,  LAURENCE  BUTTON 

[WRiNTHAM]  MAY  29,   1898. 

.  .  .  My  work  goes  on  bravely.  Each  day  is 
filled  to  the  brim  with  hard  study ;  for  I  am  anxious 
to  accomplish  as  much  as  possible  before  I  put 
away  my  books  for  the  summer  vacation.  You  will 
be  pleased  to  hear  that  I  did  three  problems  in 
Geometry  yesterday  without  assistance.  Mr.  Keith 
and  Teacher  were  quite  enthusiastic  over  the  achieve 
ment,  and  I  must  confess,  I  felt  somewhat  elated 
myself.  Now  I  feel  as  if  I  should  succeed  in  doing 
something  in  mathematics,  although  I  cannot  see 
why  it  is  so  very  important  to  know  that  the  lines 
drawn  from  the  extremities  of  the  base  of  an  isosceles 
triangle  to  the  middle  points  of  the  opposite  sides 
are  equal !  The  knowledge  doesn't  make  life  any 
sweeter  or  happier,  does  it?  On  the  other  hand, 
when  we  learn  a  new  word,  it  is  the  key  to  untold 
treasures. 


TO  LETTERS  243 

TO  CHARLES  DUDLEY  WARNER 

WRENTHAM,  MASS.,  June  7,  1898. 

I  am  afraid  you  will  conclude  that  I  am  not  very 
anxious  for  a  tandem  after  all,  since  I  have  let 
nearly  a  week  pass  without  answering  your  letter 
in  regard  to  the  kind  of  wheel  I  should  like.  But 
really,  I  have  been  so  constantly  occupied  with  my 
studies  since  we  returned  from  New  York,  that  I 
have  not  had  time  even  to  think  of  the  fun  it  would 
be  to  have  a  bicycle !  You  see,  I  am  anxious  to 
accomplish  as  much  as  possible  before  the  long 
summer  vacation  begins.  I  am  glad,  though,  that 
it  is  nearly  time  to  put  away  my  books ;  for  the  sun* 
shine  and  flowers,  and  the  lovely  lake  in  front  of  our 
house  are  doing  their  best  to  tempt  me  away  from 
my  Greek  and  Mathematics,  especially  from  the 
latter !  I  am  sure  the  daisies  and  buttercups  have 
as  little  use  for  the  science  of  Geometry  as  I,  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  they  so  beautifully  illustrate 
its  principles. 

But  bless  me,  I  mustn't  forget  the  tandem !  The 
truth  is,  I  know  very  little  about  bicycles.  I  have 
only  ridden  a  "  sociable, "  which  is  very  different  from 
the  ordinary  tandem.  The  "sociable"  is  safer, 
perhaps,  than  the  tandem;  but  it  is  very  heavy  and 
awkward,  and  has  a  way  of  taking  up  the  greater 
part  of  the  road.  Besides,  I  have  been  told  that 
"sociables"  cost  more  than  other  kinds  of  bicycles. 
My  teacher  and  other  friends  think  I  could  ride  a 
Columbia  tandem  in  the  country  with  perfect  safety. 
They  also  think  your  suggestion  about  a  fixed  handle 
bar  a  good  one.  I  ride  with  a  divided  skirt,  and  so 
does  my  teacher;  but  it  would  be  easier  for  her  to 
mount  a  man's  wheel  than  for  me;  so,  if  it  could  be 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE    [Oct.  23,  *<# 

arranged  to  have  the  ladies'  seat  behind,  I  think  it 
would  be  better. 


TO  MISS  CAROLINE  DERBY 

WRENTHAM,  September  n,  1898. 
.  .  .  I  am  out  of  doors  all  the  time,  rowing, 
swimming,  riding  and  doing  a  multitude  of  other 
pleasant  things.  This  morning  I  rode  over  twelve 
miles  on  my  tandem !  I  rode  on  a  rough  road,  and 
fell  off  three  or  four  times,  and  am  now  awfully  lame  ! 
But  the  weather  and  the  scenery  were  so  beautiful, 
and  it  was  such  fun  to  go  scooting  over  the  smoother 
part  of  the  road,  I  didn't  mind  the  mishaps  in  the 
least. 

—  I  have  really  learned  to  swim  and  dive — after  a 
fashion !  I  can  swim  a  little  under  water,  and  do 
almost  anything  I  like,  without  fear  of  getting 
drowned !  Isn't  that  fine  ?  It  is  almost  no  effort 
for  me  to  row  around  the  lake,  no  matter  how  heavy 
the  load  may  be.  So  you  can  well  imagine  how 
strong  and  brown  I  am.  .  .  . 


TO  MRS.  LAURENCE  HUTTON 

12  NEWBURY  STREET,  BOSTON, 

October  23,  1898. 

This  is  the  first  opportunity  I  have  had  to  write 
*vo  you  since  we  came  here  last  Monday.  We  have 
been  in  such  a  whirl  ever  since  we  decided  to  com? 


Aet.  18}  LETTERS  245 

to  Boston;  it  seemed  as  if  we  should  never  get 
settled.  Poor  Teacher  has  had  her  hands  full, 
attending  to  movers,  and  express-men,  and  all  sorts 
of  people.  I  wish  it  were  not  such  a  bother  to 
move,  especially  as  we  have  to  do  it  so  often  I  .  .  , 

,  .  .  Mr.  Keith  comes  here  at  half  past  three 
every  day  except  Saturday.  He  says  he  prefers  to 
come  here  for  the  present.  I  am  reading  the  *  *  Iliad, ' ' 
and  the  "^Eneid"  and  Cicero,  besides  doing  a  lot 
in  Geometry  and  Algebra.  The  " Iliad"  is  beautiful 
with  all  the  truth,  and  grace  and  simplicity  of  a  won 
derfully  childlike  people  while  th*  "^neid  "  is  more 
stately  and  reserved.  It  is  liKe  a  Deautiim  maicieis., 
who  always  lived  in  a  palace,  surrounded  by  a  mag 
nificent  court;  while  the  "Iliad"  is  like  a  splendid 
youth,  who  has  had  the  earth  for  his  playground. 

The  weather  has  been  awfully  dismal  all  the  week; 
but  to-day  is  beautiful,  and  our  room  floor  is  flooded 
with  sunlight.  By  and  by  we  shall  take  a  little  walk 
in  the  Public  Gardens.  I  wish  the  Wrentham  woods 
were  round  the  corner !  But  alas !  they  are  not, 
and  I  shall  have  to  content  myself  with  a  stroll  in 
the  Gardens.  Somehow,  after  the  great  fields  and 
pastures  and  lofty  pine-groves  of  the  country,  they 
seem  shut-in  and  conventional.  Even  the  trees 
seem  citified  and  self-conscious.  Indeed,  I  doubt  if 
they  aie  on  speaking  terms  with  their  country 
cousins  !  Do  you  know,  I  cannot  helu  fueling  sorry 
for  these  trees  with  all  their  fashionable,  dirs  ?  They 
are  like  the  people  whom  they  see  every  day,  who 
prefer  the  crowded,  noisy  city  to  the  quiet  and  free 
dom  of  the  country.  They  do  not  even  suspect  how 
circumscribed  their  lives  are.  They  look  down 
pityingly  on  the  country-folk,  who  have  never  hab 


246  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE   [Dec.  6,  ><# 

an  opportunity  "to  see  the  great  world."  Oh  my! 
if  they  only  realized  their  limitations,  they  would 
flee  for  their  lives  to  the  woods  and  fields.  But  what 
nonsense  is  this !  You  will  think  I'm  pining  away 
for  my  beloved  Wrentham,  which  is  true  in  one  sense 
and  not  in  another.  I  do  miss  Red  Farm  and  the  deaf 
ones  there  dreadfully ;  but  I  am  not  unhappy.  I 
have  Teacher  and  my  books,  and  I  have  the  certainty 
that  something  sweet  and  good  will  come  to  me  in 
this  great  city,  where  human  beings  struggle  so 
bravely  all  their  lives  to  wring  happiness  from  cruel 
circumstances.  Anyway,  I  am  glad  to  have  my 
share  in  life,  whether  it  be  bright  or  sad.  .  .  . 


TO    MRS.    WILLIAM    THAW 

BOSTON,  December  6th,  1898. 
My  teacher  and  I  had  a  good  laugh  over  the  girls* 
frolic.  How  funny  they  must  have  looked  in  their 
"rough-rider"  costumes,  mounted  upon  their  fiery 
steeds !  "Slim"  would  describe  them,  if  they  were 
anything  like  the  saw-horses  I  have  seen.  What 

jolly  times  they  must  have  at  !       I  cannot 

help  wishing  sometimes  that  I  could  have  some  of 
the  fun  that  other  girls  have.  How  quickly  I  should 
lock  up  all  these  mighty  warriors,  and  hoary  sages, 
and  impossible  heroes,  who  are  now  almost  my  only 
companions ;  and  dance  and  sing  and  frolic  like  other 
girls !  But  I  must  not  waste  my  time  wishing  idle 
wishes ;  and  after  all  my  ancient  friends  are  very  wise 
and  interesting,  and  I  usually  enjoy  their  society 


A  rt.  18]  LETTERS  247 

very  much  indeed.  It  is  only  once  in  a  great  whik 
that  I  feel  discontented,  and  allow  myself  to  wish  for 
things  I  cannot  hope  for  in  this  life.  But,  as  you 
know,  my  heart  is  usually  brimful  of  happiness. 
The  thought  that  my  dear  Heavenly  Father  is  always 
near,  giving  me  abundantly  of  all  those  things,  which 
truly  enrich  life  and  make  it  sweet  and  beautiful, 
makes  every  deprivation  seem  of  little  moment 
compared  with  the  countless  blessings  I  enjoy. 


TO  MRS.  WILLIAM  THAW 

12  NEWBURY  STREET,  BOSTON, 

December  iQth,  1898. 

.  .  .  I  realize  now  what  a  selfish,  greedy  girl 
I  was  to  ask  that  my  cup  of  happiness  should  be 
filled  to  overflowing,  without  stopping  to  tkink  how 
many  other  people's  cups  were  quite  empty.  I  feel 
heartily  ashamed  of  my  thoughtlessness.  One  of  the 
childish  illusions,  which  it  has  been  hardest  for  me 
to  get  rid  of,  is  that  we  have  only  to  make  our  wishes 
known  in  order  to  have  them  granted.  But  I  am 
slowly  learning  that  there  is  not  happiness  enough  in 
the  world  for  everyone  to  have  all  that  he  wants; 
and  it  grieves  me  to  think  that  I  should  have 
forgotten,  even  for  a  moment,  that  I  already  have 
more  than  my  share,  and  that  like  poor  little 
Oliver  Twist  I  should  have  asked  for  *'  more, " .  ,  . 


248  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  [Jan.  17,  'pp 

TO  MRS.  LAURENCE  HI7TTON 

12  NEWBURY  STREET,  BOSTON. 

December  22,  [1898] 

I  suppose  Mr.  Keith  writes  you  the  work- 
a-day  news.  If  so,  you  know  that  I  have  finished 
all  the  geometry,  and  nearly  all  the  Algebra  required 
for  the  Harvard  examinations,  and  after  Christmas 
I  shall  begin  a  very  careful  review  of  both  subjects. 
You  will  be  glad  to  hear  that  I  enjoy  Mathematics 
now.  Why,  I  can  do  long,  complicated  quadratic 
equations  in  my  head  quite  easily,  and  it  is  great 
fun!  I  think  Mr.  Keith  is  a  wonderful  teacher,  and 
I  feel  very  grateful  to  him  for  having  made  me  see 
the  beauty  of  Mathematics.  Next  to  my  own  dear 
teacher,  he  has  done  more  than  any  one  else  to  enrich 
and  broaden  my  mind. 


TO  MRS.  LAURENCE  HUTTON 

12  NEWBURY  STREET,  BOSTON. 

January  17,  1899. 

"Have  you  seen  Kipling's  " Dreaming 
True,"  or  "Kitchener's  School?"  It  is  a  very  strong 
poem  and  set  me  dreaming  too.  Of  course  you 
have  read  about  the  "Gordon  Memorial  College," 
which  the  English  people  are  to  erect  at  Khartoum. 
While  I  was  thinking  over  the  blessings  that  would 
come  to  the  people  of  Egypt  through  this  college, 
and  eventually  to  England  herself,  there  came  into 
my  heart  the  strong  desire  that  my  own  dear  coun 
try  should  in  a  similar  way  convert  the  terrible  loss 


A*.  18]  LETTERS  249 

of  her  brave  sons  on  the  "Maine"  into  a  like  blessing 
to  the  people  of  Cuba.  Would  a  college  at  Havana 
not  be  the  noblest  and  most  enduring  monument 
that  could  be  raised  to  the  brave  men  of  the  "Maine," 
as  well  as  a  source  of  infinite  good  to  all  concerned  ? 
Imagine  entering  the  Havana  harbor,  and  having 
the  pier,  where  the  "Maine"  was  anchored  on  that 
dreadful  night,  when  she  was  so  mysteriously 
destroyed,  pointed  out  to  you,  and  being  told  that 
the  great,  beautiful  building  overlooking  the  spot 
was  the  "Maine  Memorial  College,"  erected  by  the 
American  people,  and  having  for  its  object  the 
education  both  of  Cubans  and  Spaniards !  What 
a  glorious  triumph  such  a  monument  would  be  of 
the  best  and  highest  instincts  of  a  Christian  nation  ! 
In  it  there  would  be  no  suggestion  of  hatred  01 
revenge,  nor  a  trace  of  the  old-time  belief  that 
might  makes  right.  On  the  other  hand,  it  would 
be  a  pledge  to  the  world  that  we  intend  to  stand 
by  our  declaration  of  war,  and  give  Cuba  to  the 
Cubans,  as  soon  as  we  have  fitted  them  to  assume 
the  duties  and  responsibilities  of  a  self-governing 
people.  .  .  . 


TO   MR.   JOHN   HITZ 

12  NEWBURY  STREET,  BOSTON. 

February  3,   1899. 

f  ,  .  I  had  an  exceedingly  interesting  experi 
ence  last  Monday.  A  kind  friend  took  me  over  in 
the  morning  to  the  Boston  Art  Museum.  She  had 
previously  obtained  permission  from  General  Loring 


250  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE    \FA*3.999 

Supt.  of  the  Museum,  for  me  to  touch  the 
statues,  especially  those  which  represented  my  old 
friends  in  the  "Iliad"  and  "Aeneid."  Was  that  not 
lovely  ?  While  I  was  there,  General  Loring  himself 
came  in,  and  showed  me  some  of  the  most  beautiful 
statues,  among  which  were  the  Venus  of  Medici, 
the  Minerva  of  the  Parthenon,  Diana,  in  her  hunt 
ing  costume,  with  her  hand  on  the  quiver  and  a 
doe  by  her  side,  and  the  unfortunate  Laocoon  and 
his  two  little  sons,  struggling  in  the  fearful  coils  of 
two  huge  serpents,  and  stretching  their  arms  to  the 
skies  with  heart-rending  cries.  I  also  saw  Apollo 
Belvidere.  He  had  just  slain  the  Python  and  was 
standing  by  a  great  pillar  of  rock,  extending  his 
graceful  hand  in  triumph  over  the  terrible  snake. 
Oh,  he  was  simply  beautiful !  Venus  entranced 
me.  She  looked  as  if  she  had  just  risen  from  the 
foam  of  the  sea,  and  her  loveliness  was  like  a  strain 
of  heavenly  music.  I  also  saw  poor  Niobe  with 
her  youngest  child  clinging  close  to  her  while  she 
implored  the  cruel  goddess  not  to  kill  her  last 
darling.  I  almost  cried,  it  was  all  so  real  and 
tragic.  General  Loring  kindly  showed  me  a  copy 
of  one  of  the  wonderful  bronze  doors  of  the  Baptistry 
of  Florence,  and  I  felt  of  the  graceful  pillars,  resting 
on  the  backs  of  fierce  lions.  So  you  see,  I  had  a 
foretaste  of  the  pleasure  which  I  hope  some  day 
to  have  of  visiting  Florence.  My  friend  said,  she 
would  sometime  show  me  the  copies  of  the  marbles 
brought  away  by  Lord  Elgin  from  the  Parthenon. 
But  somehow,  I  should  prefer  to  see  the  originals 
in  the  place  where  Genius  meant  them  to  remain, 
not  only  as  a  hymn  of  praise  to  the  gods,  but 
also  as  a  monument  of  the  glory  of  Greece.  It 
really  seems  wrong  to  snatch  such  sacred 


A*.  18}  LETTERS  251 

things  away  from  the  sanctuary  of  the  Past  where 
they  belong.     .     .    . 


TO   MR.    WILLIAM   WADE 

BOSTON,  February  ipth,  1899. 

Why,  bless  you,  I  thought  I  wrote  to  you  the  day 
fifter  the  "  Eclogues'  *  arrived,  and  told  you  how 
glad  I  was  to  have  them !  Perhaps  you  never  got 
that  letter.  At  any  rate,  I  thank  you,  dear  friend, 
for  taking  such  a  world  of  trouble  for  me.  You 
will  be  glad  to  hear  that  the  books  from  England 
are  coming  now.  I  already  have  the  seventh  and 
eighth  books  of  the  "  Aeneid  "  and  one  book  of 
the  "Iliad,"  all  of  which  is  most  fortunate,  as  I  have 
come  almost  to  the  end  of  my  embossed  text-books. 

It  gives  me  great  pleasure  to  hear  how  much  is 
being  done  for  the  deaf -blind.  The  more  I  learn  of 
them,  the  more  kindness  I  find.  Why,  only  a  little 
while  ago  people  thought  it  quite  impossible  to  teach 
the  deaf -blind  anything ;  but  no  sooner  was  it  proved 
possible  than  hundreds  of  kind,  sympathetic  hearts 
were  fired  with  the  desire  to  help  them,  and  now 
we  see  how  many  of  those  poor,  unfortunate  persons 
are  being  taught  to  see  the  beauty  and  reality  of 
life.  Love  always  finds  its  way  to  an  imprisoned 
soul,  and  leads  it  out  into  the  world  of  freedom  and 
intelligence ! 

As  to  the  two-handed  alphabet,  I  think  it  is  much 
easier  for  those  who  have  sight  than  the  manual 
alphabet ;  for  most  of  the  letters  look  like  the  large 
capitals  in  books ;  but  I  think  when  it  comes  to  teach- 


252  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  [Mar.  5,  <99 

ing  a  deaf -blind  person  to  spell,  the  manual  alphabet 
is  much  more  convenient,  and  less  conspicuous.  .    k.  . 


TO  MRS.  LAURENCE  HUTTON 

12  NEWBURY  STREET,  BOSTON, 
March  5,  1899. 

,  .  .  I  am  now  sure  that  I  shall  be  ready  for 
my  examinations  in  June.  There  is  but  one  cloud 
in  my  sky  at  present ;  but  that  is  one  which  casts 
a  dark  shadow  over  my  life,  and  makes  me  very 
anxious  at  times.  My  teacher's  eyes  are  no  better: 
indeed,  I  think  they  grow  more  troublesome,  though 
she  is  very  brave  and  patient,  and  will  not  give  up. 
But  it  is  most  distressing  to  me  to  feel  that  she  is 
sacrificing  her  sight  for  me.  I  feel  as  if  I  ought  to 
give  up  the  idea  of  going  to  college  altogether:  for 
not  all  the  knowledge  in  the  world  could  make  me 
happy,  if  obtained  at  such  a  cost.  I  do  wish, 
Mrs.  Hutton,  you  would  try  to  persuade  Teacher 
to  take  a  rest,  and  have  her  eyes  treated.  She  will 
not  listen  to  me. 

I  have  just  had  some  pictures  taken,  and  if  they 
are  good,  I  would  like  to  send  one  to  Mr.  Rogers,  if 
you  think  he  would  like  to  have  it.  I  would  like 
so  much  to  show  him  in  some  way  how  deeply  I 
appreciate  all  that  he  is  doing  for  me,  and  I  cannot 
think  of  anything  better  to  do. 

Every  one  here  is  talking  about  the  Sargent 
pictures.  It  is  a  wonderful  exhibition  of  portraits, 
they  say.  How  I  wish  I  had  eyes  to  see  them ! 
How  I  should  delight  in  their  beauty  and  color! 


Aet.  is]  LETTERS  253 

However,  I  am  glad  that  I  am  not  debarred  from 
all  pleasure  in  the  pictures.  I  have  at  least  the 
satisfaction  of  seeing  them  through  the  eyes  of  my 
friends,  which  is  a  real  pleasure.  I  am  so  thankful 
that  I  can  rejoice  in  the  beauties,  which  my  friends 
gather  and  put  into  my  hands  ! 

We  are  all  so  glad  and  thankful  that  Mr.  Kipling 
did  not  die!  I  have  his  " Jungle-Book"  in  raised 
print,  and  what  a  splendid,  refreshing  book  it  is ! 
I  cannot  help  feeling  as  if  I  knew  its  gifted  author. 
What  a  real,  manly,  lovable  nature  his  must  be  !  .  .  , 


TO  DR.  DAVID  H.  GREER 

12  NEWBURY  STREET,  BOSTON, 

May  8,  1899. 

.  .  .  Each  day  brings  me  all  that  I  can  possibly 
accomplish,  and  each  night  brings  me  rest,  and  the 
sweet  thought  that  I  am  a  little  nearer  to  my  goal 
than  ever  before.  My  Greek  progresses  finely.  I 
have  finished  the  ninth  book  of  the  "  Iliad"  and  am 
just  beginning  the  "  Odyssey."  I  am  also  reading 
the  "Aeneid"  and  the  ''Eclogues."  Some  of  my 
friends  tell  me  that  I  am  very  foolish  to  give  so 
much  time  to  Greek  and  Latin;  but  I  am  sure 
they  would  not  think  so,  if  they  realized  what  a 
wonderful  world  of  experience  and  thought  Home:' 
and  Virgil  have  opened  up  to  me.  I  think  I  shall 
enjoy  the  "Odyssey"  most  of  all.  The  "Iliad" 
tells  of  almost  nothing  but  war,  and  one  sometimes 
wearies  of  the  clash  of  spears  and  the  din  of  battle; 
but  the  "Odyssey"  tells  of  nobler  courage— the 


254  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE   [May  VP* 

courage  of  a  soul  sore  tried,  but  steadfast  to  the 
end.  I  often  wonder,  as  I  read  these  splendid  poems 
why,  at  the  same  time  that  Homer's  songs  of  war 
fired  the  Greeks  with  valor,  his  songs  of  manly  virtue 
did  not  have  a  stronger  influence  upon  the  spiritual 
life  of  the  people.  Perhaps  the  reason  is,  that 
thoughts  truly  great  are  like  seeds  cast  into  the 
human  mind,  and  either  lie  there  unnoticed,  or  are 
tossed  about  and  played  with,  like  toys,  until, 
grown  wise  through  suffering  and  experience,  a  race 
discovers  and  cultivates  them.  Then  the  world  has 
advanced  one  step  in  its  heavenward  march. 

I  am  working  very  hard  just  now.  I  intend  to 
take  my  examinations  in  June,  and  there  is  a  great 
deal  to  be  done,  before  I  shall  feel  ready  to  meet  the 
ordeal.  .  .  . 

You  will  be  glad  to  hear  that  my  mother,  and 
little  sister  and  brother  are  coming  north  to  spend 
this  summer  with  me.  We  shall  all  live  together 
in  a  small  cottage  on  one  of  the  lakes  at  Wrentham, 
while  my  dear  teacher  takes  a  much  needed  rest, 
She  has  not  had  a  vacation  for  twelve  years,  think 
of  it,  and  all  that  time  she  has  been  the  sunshine  of 
my  life.  Now  her  eyes  are  troubling  her  a  great 
deal,  and  we  all  think  she  ought  to  be  relieved,  for 
a  while,  of  every  care  and  responsibility.  But  we 
shall  not  be  quite  separated ;  we  shall  see  each  other- 
every  day,  I  hope.  And,  when  July  comes,  you  can 
think  of  me  as  rowing  my  dear  ones  around  ths 
lovely  lake  in  the  little  boat  you  gave  me,  the  hap 
piest  girl  in  the  world !  .  .  . 


Aet.iS]  LETTERS 

TO   MRS.    LAURENCE  HUTTON 

[BOSTON]  May  28th  [1899]. 

.  .  .  We  have  had  a  hard  day.  Mr.  Keith 
was  here  for  three  hours  this  afternoon,  pouring  a 
torrent  of  Latin  and  Greek  into  my  poor  bewildered 
brain.  I  really  believe  he  knows  more  Latin  and 
Greek  Grammar  than  Cicero  or  Homer  ever  dreamed 
of!  Cicero  is  splendid,  but  his  orations  are  very 
difficult  to  translate.  I  feel  ashamed  sometimes, 
when  I  make  that  eloquent  man  say  what  sounds 
absurd  or  insipid ;  but  how  is  a  school-girl  to  interpret 
such  genius?  Why,  1  should  have  to  be  a  Cicero 
to  talk  like  a  Cicero  !  .  .  . 


Linnie  Haguewood  is  a  deaf -blind  girl,  one  of 
the  many  whom  Mr.  William  Wade  has  helped. 
She  is  being  educated  by  Miss  Dora  Donald  who, 
at  the  beginning  of  her  work  with  her  pupil,  was 
supplied  by  Mr.  Hitz,  Superintendent  of  the  Volta 
Bureau,  with  copies  of  all  documents  relating  to 
Miss  Sullivan's  work  with  Miss  Keller. 


TO    MR.    WILLIAM    WADE. 

WRENTHAM,  MASS.,  June  5,  1899. 

ft     .     .     Linnie  Haguewood's  letter,   which  you 

sent  me  some  weeks  ago,  interested  me  very  much. 

Ife  seemed  to  show  spontaneity  and  great  sweetness 

-vl  character.     I  was  a  pood  deal  amused  by  what 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

she  said  about  history.  I  am  sorry  she  does  not 
enjoy  it;  but  I  too  feel  sometimes  how  dark,  and 
mysterious  and  even  fearful  the  history  of  old 
peoples,  old  religions  and  old  forms  of  government 
really  is. 

Well,  I  must  confess,  I  do  not  like  the  sign- 
language,  and  I  do  not  think  it  would  be  of  much  use 
to  the  deaf -blind.  I  find  it  very  difficult  to  follow 
the  rapid  motions  made  by  the  deaf-mutes,  and 
besides,  signs  seem  a  great  hindrance  to  them  in 
acquiring  the  power  of  using  language  easily  and 
freely.  Why,  I  find  it  hard  to  understand  them 
sometimes  when  they  spell  on  their  fingers.  On  the 
whole,  if  they  cannot  be  taught  articulation,  the 
manual  alphabet  seems  the  best  and  most  convenient 
means  of  communication.  At  any  rate,  I  am  sure 
the  deaf-blind  cannot  learn  to  use  signs  with  any 
degree  of  facility. 

The  other  day,  I  met  a  deaf  Norwegian  gentleman, 
who  knows  Ragnhild  Kaata  and  her  teacher  very 
well,  and  we  had  a  very  interesting  conversation 
about  her.  He  said  she  was  very  industrious  and 
happy.  She  spins,  and  does  a  great  deal  of  fancy 
work,  and  reads,  and  leads  a  pleasant,  useful  life. 
Just  think,  she  cannot  use  the  manual  alphabet ! 
She  reads  the  lips  well,  and  if  she  cannot  understand 
a  phrase,  her  friends  write  it  in  her  hand ;  and  in  this 
way  she  converses  with  strangers.  I  cannot  make, 
out  anything  written  in  my  hand,  so  you  see, 
Ragnhild  has  got  ahead  of  me  in  some  things.  I  do 
hope  I  shall  see  her  sometime.  „  «  . 


A*.  1 9}  LETTERS  257 

TO  MRS.  LAURENCE  HUTTON 

WRENTHAM,  July  29,  1899. 

.  .  .  I  passed  in  all  the  subjects  I  offered,  and 
with  credit  in  advanced  Latin.  .  .  .  But  I 
must  confess,  I  had  a  hard  time  on  the  second  day 
of  my  examinations.  They  would  not  allow  Teacher 
to  read  any  of  the  papers  to  me ;  so  the  papers  were 
copied  for  me  in  braille.  This  arrangement  worked 
very  well  in  the  languages,  but  not  nearly  so  well  in 
the  Mathematics.  Consequently,  I  did  not  do  so  well 
as  I  should  have  done,  if  Teacher  had  been  allowed  to 
read  the  Algebra  and  Geometry  to  me.  But  you 
must  not  think  I  blame  any  one.  Of  course  they  did 
not  realize  how  difficult  and  perplexing  they  were 
making  the  examinations  for  me.  How  could  they — 
they  can  see  and  hear,  and  I  suppose  they  could  not 
understand  matters  from  my  point  of  view.  .  .  v 

Thus  far  my  summer  has  been  sweeter  than  any 
thing  I  can  remember.  My  mother,  and  sister  and 
little  brother  have  been  here  five  weeks,  and  our 
happiness  knows  no  bounds.  Not  only  do  we  enjoy 
being  together ;  but  we  also  find  our  little  home  most 
delightful.  I  do  wish  you  could  see  the  view  of  the 
beautiful  lake  from  our  piazza,,  the  islands  looking 
like  little  emerald  peaks  in  the  golden  sunlight,  and 
the  canoes  flitting  here  and  there,  like  autumn  leaves 
in  the  gentle  breeze,  and  breathe  in  the  peculiarly 
delicious  fragrance  of  the  woods,  which  com.es  like  a 
murmur  from  an  unknown  clime.  I  cannot  help 
wondering  if  it  is  the  same  fragrance  that  greeted 
the  Norsemen  long  ago,  when,  according  to  tradition, 
they  visited  our  shores — an  odorous  echo  of  many 
centuries  of  silent  growth  and  decay  in  flowet  und 
tr  se , 


258  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  [Oct.  20.^ 

TO   MRS.    SAMUEL   RICHARD   FULLER 

WRENTHAM,  October  20,  1899. 
.  .  .  I  suppose  it  is  time  for  me  to  tell  you 
something  about  our  plans  for  the  winter.  You 
know  it  has  long  been  my  ambition  to  go  to  Radcliffe, 
and  receive  a  degree,  as  many  other  girls  have  done; 
but  Dean  Irwin  of  Radcliffe,  has  persuaded  me  ta 
take  a  special  course  for  the  present.  She  said  I 
had  already  shown  the  world  that  I  could  do  the 
college  work,  by  passing  all  my  examinations  suc 
cessfully^  in  spite  of  many  obstacles.  She  showed 
me  how  very  foolish  it  would  be  for  me  to  pursue 
a  four  years''  course  of  study  at  Radcliffe,  simply  to 
be  like  other  girls,  when  I  might  better  be  culti 
vating  whatever  ability  I  had  for  writing.  She  said 
she  did  not  consider  a  degree  of  any  real  value,  but 
thought  it  was  much  more  desirable  to  do  some 
thing  original  than  to  waste  one's  energies  only  for 
a  degree.  Her  arguments  seemed  so  wise  and 
practical,  that  I  could  not  but  yield.  I  found  it 
hard,  very  hard,  to  give  up  the  idea  of  going  to 
college;  it  had  been  in  my  mind  ever  since  I  was  a 
little  girl ;  but  there  is  no  use  doing  a  foolish  thing, 
because  one  has  wanted  to  do  it  a  long  time,  is  there  ? 
But,  while  we  were  discussing  plans  for  the  winter, 
a  suggestion  which  Dr.  Hale  had  made  long  ago 
flashed  across  Teacher's  mind — that  I  might  take 
courses  somewhat  like  those  offered  at  Radcliffe, 
under  the  instruction  of  the  professors  in  these 
courses.  Miss  Irwin  seemed  to  have  no  objection 
to  this  proposal,  and  kindly  offered  to  see  the  pro* 
fessors  and  find  out  if  they  would  give  me  lessons. 
If  they  will  be  so  good  as  to  teach  me  and  if  we  have 
money  enough  to  do  as  we  have  planned,  my  studies 


Aet .  jp]  LETTERS  259 

this  year  will  be  English,  English  Literature  o£  the 
Elizabethan  period,  Latin  and  German.     .     .     * 


TO  MR.  JOHN  HITZ 

138  BRATTLE  ST.,  CAMBRIDGE,    • 
Nov.  n,  1899. 

...  As  to  the  braille  question,  I  cannot  tell  hcwf 
deeply  it  distresses  me  to  hear  that  my  statement 
with  regard  to  the  examinations  has  been  doubted. 
Ignorance  seems  to  be  at  the  bottom  of  all  these 
contradictions.  Why,  you  yourself  seem  to  think 
that  I  taught  you  American  braille,  when  you  do 
not  know  a  single  letter  in  the  system !  I  could 
not  help  laughing  when  you  said  you  had  been  wilt 
ing  to  me  in  American  braille — and  there  you  were 
writing  your  letter  in  English  braille  ! 

The  facts  about  the  braille  examinations  are  as 
follows : 

How  I  passed   my  Entrance  Examinations 
for  Radcliffe  College. 

On  the  29th  and  3oth  of  June,  1899,  I  took  my 
examinations  for  Radcliffe  College.  The  first  day  I 
had  elementary  Greek  and  advanced  Latin,  and  the 
second  day  Geometry,  Algebra  and  advanced  Greek. 

The  college  authorities  would  not  permit  Miss 
Sullivan  to  read  the  examination  papers  to  me;  so 
Mr.  Eugene  C.  Vining,  one  of  the  instructors  at  the 
Perkins  Institution  for  the  Blind,  was  employed  to 
copy  the  papers  for  me  in  braille.  Mr.  Vining  was  a 
perfect  stranger  to  me,  and  could  not  communicate 
with  me  except  by  writing  in  braille.  The  Proctor 


260  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE    [Nov.  n,  '99 

also  was  a  stranger,  and  did  not  attempt  to  com 
municate  with  me  in  any  way;  and,  as  they  were 
both  unfamiliar  with  my  speech,  they  could  not 
readily  understand  what  I  said  to  them. 

However,  the  braille  worked  well  enough  in  the 
languages;  but  when  it  came  to  Geometry  and 
Algebra,  it  was  different.  I  was  sorely  perplexed, 
and  felt  quite  discouraged,  and  wasted  much 
precious  time,  especially  in  Algebra.  It  is  true  that 
I  am  perfectly  familiar  with  all  literary  braille- 
English,  American,  and  New  York  Point;  but  the 
method  of  writing  the  various  signs  used  in  Geometry 
and  Algebra  in  the  three  systems  is  very  different, 
and  two  days  before  the  examinations  I  knew  only 
the  English  method.  I  had  used  it  all  through  my 
school  work,  and  never  any  other  system. 

In  Geometry,  my  chief  difficulty  was,  that  I  had 
always  been  accustomed  to  reading  the  propositions 
in  Line  Print,  or  having  them  spelled  into  my  hand; 
and  somehow,  although  the  propositions  were  right 
before  me,  yet  the  braille  confused  me,  and  I  could 
not  fix  in  my  mind  clearly  what  I  was  reading. 
But,  when  I  took  up  Algebra,  I  had  a  harder  time 
still— I  was  terribly  handicapped  by  my  imperfect 
knowledge  of  the  notation.  The  signs,  which  I 
had  learned  the  day  before,  and  which  I  thought 
I  knew  perfectly,  confused  me.  Consequently  my 
work  was  painfully  slow,  and  I  was  obliged  to  read 
the  examples  over  and  over  before  I  could  form  a 
clear  idea  what  I  was  required  to  do.  Indeed,  I  am 
not  sure  now  that  I  read  all  the  signs  correctly, 
especially  as  I  was  much  distressed,  and  found  it 
very  hard  to  keep  my  wits  about  me.  .  .  . 
[  Now  there  is  one  more  fact,  which  I  wish  to  state 


Aet.  19}  LETTERS  261 

very  plainly,  in  regard  to  what  Mr.  Oilman  wrote 
to  you.  I  never  received  any  direct  instruction  in 
the  Oilman  School.  Miss  Sullivan  always  sat 
beside  me,  and  told  me  what  the  teachers  said.  I 
did  teach  Miss  Hall,  my  teacher  in  Physics,  how 
to  write  the  American  braille,  but  she  never  gave 
me  any  instruction  by  means  of  it,  unless  a  few 
problems  written  for  practice,  which  made  me  waste 
much  precious  time  deciphering  them,  can  be  called 
instruction.  Dear  Frau  Grote  learned  the  manual 
alphabet,  and  used  to  teach  me  herself;  but  this 
was  in  private  lessons,  which  were  paid  for  by  my 
friends.  In  the  German  class  Miss  Sullivan  inter 
preted  to  me  as  well  as  she  could  what  the  teacher 
said. 

Perhaps,  if  you  would  send  a  copy  of  this  to  the 
head  of  the  Cambridge  School,  it  might  enlighten 
his  mind  on  a  few  subjects,  on  which  he  seems  to 
be  in  total  darkness  just  now.  .  .  . 


TO  MISS  MILDRED  KELLER 

138  BRATTLE  STREET,  CAMBRIDGE, 

November  26,   1899. 

,  .  .  At  last  we  are  settled  for  the  winter,  and 
our  work  is  going  smoothly.  Mr.  Keith  comes 
every  afternoon  at  four  o'clock,  and  gives  me  a 
"friendly  lift"  over  the  rough  stretches  of  road* 
over  which  every  student  must  go.  I  am  studying 
English  history,  English  literature,  French  and 
Latin,  and  by  and  by  I  shall  take  up  German  and 
English  composition — let  us  groan !  You  know, 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  [Nov.  26,  <# 

I  detest  grammar  as  much  as  you  do ;  but  I  suppose 
I  must  go  through  it  if  I  am  to  write,  just  as  we  had 
to  get  ducked  in  the  lake  hundreds  of  times  before 
we  could  swim !  In  French  Teacher  is  reading 
"Columba"  to  me.  It  is  a  delightful  novel,  full  of 
piquant  expressions  and  thrilling  adventures,  (don't 
dare  to  blame  me  for  using  big  words,  since  you  do 
the  same !)  and,  if  you  ever  read  it,  I  think  you 
will  enjoy  it  immensely.  You  are  studying  English 
history,  aren't  you.  O  but  it's  exceedingly  inter 
esting  !  I'm  making  quite  a  thorough  study  of 
the  Elizabethan  period — of  the  Reformation,  and 
the  Acts  of  Supremacy  and  Conformity,  and  the 
maritime  discoveries,  and  all  the  big  things,  which 
the  "deuce"  seems  to  have  invented  to  plague 
innocent  youngsters  like  yourself !  .  .  . 

Now  we  have  a  swell  winter  outfit — coats,  hats, 
gowns,  flannels  and  all.  We've  just  had  four  lovely 
dresses  made  by  a  French  dressmaker.  I  have 
two,  of  which  one  has  a  black  silk  skirt,  with  a  black 
lace  net  over  it,  and  a  waist  of  white  poplin,  with 
turquoise  velvet  and  chiffon,  and  cream  lace  over  a 
satin  yoke.  The  other  is  woollen,  and  of  a  very 
pretty  green.  The  waist  is  trimmed  w&h  pink  and 
green  brocaded  velvet,  and  white  lace,  I  think,  and 
has  double  reefers  on  the  front,  tucked  and  trimmed 
with  velvet,  and  also  a  row  of  tiny  white  buttons. 
Teacher  too  has  a  silk  dress.  The  skirt  is  black, 
while  the  waist  is  mostly  yellow,  trimmed  with 
delicate  lavender  chiffon,  and  black  Telvet  bows 
and  lace.  Her  other  dress  is  purple,  trimmed 
with  purple  velvet,  and  the  waist  has  a  collar  of 
cream  lace.  So  you  may  imagine  that  we  look  quite 
like  peacocks,  only  we've  no  trains.  .  .  , 


LETTERS  263 

A  week  ago  yesterday  there  was  [a]  great  football 
game  between  Harvard  and  Yale,  and  there  was 
tremendous  excitement  here.  We  could  hear  the 
yells  of  the  boys  and  the  cheers  of  the  lookers-on 
as  plainly  in  our  room  as  if  we  had  been  on  the  field. 
Colonel  Roosevelt  was  there,  on  Harvard's  side; 
but  bless  you,  he  wore  a  white  sweater,  and  no  crim- 
Bon  that  we  know  of !  There  were  about  twenty- 
five  thousand  people  at  the  game,  and,  when  we 
went  out,  the  noise  was  so  terrific,  we  nearly  jumpecj 
out  of  our  skins,  thinking  it  was  the  din  of  war, 
and  not  of  a  football  game  that  we  heard.  But,  in 
spite  of  all  their  wild  efforts,  neither  side  was  scored, 
and  we  all  laughed  and  said,  "Oh,  well,  now  the  pot 
can't  call  the  kettle  black  I" 


TO  MRS.  LAURENCE  HUTTON 

559  MADISON  AVENUE,  NEW  YORK, 

January  2,  1900. 

.  .  .  We  have  been  here  a  week  now,  and  are 
going  to  stay  with  Miss  Rhoades  until  Saturday.* 
We  are  enjoying  every  moment  of  our  visit,  every 
one  is  so  good  to  us.  We  have  seen  many  of  our  old 
friends,  and  made  some  new  ones.  We  dined  wkh 
the  Rogers  last  Friday,  and  oh,  they  were  so  kind 
to  us !  The  thought  of  their  gentle  courtesy  and 
genuine  kindness  brings  a  warm  glow  of  joy  aad 
gratitude  to  my  heart.  I  have  seen  Dr.  Greer 
too.  He  has  such  a  kind  heart !  I  love  him  more 
than  ever.  We  went  to  St.  Bartholomew's  Sunday, 
and  I  have  not  felt  so  much  at  home  in  a  church! 


264        THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

since  dear  Bishop  Brooks  died.  Dr.  Greer  read 
so  slowly,  that  my  teacher  could  tell  me  every 
word.  His  people  must  have  wondered  at  his  un 
usual  deliberation.  After  the  service  he  asked 
Mr.  Warren,  the  organist  to  play  for  me.  I  stood 
in  the  middle  of  the  church,  where  the  vibrations 
from  the  great  organ  were  strongest,  and  I  felt 
the  mighty  waves  of  sound  beat  against  me,  as 
the  great  billows  beat  against  a  little  ship  at  sea. 


TO  MR.  JOHN  HITZ 

138  BRATTLE  STREET,  CAMBRIDGE, 

Feb.  3, 1900. 

.  .  .  My  studies  are  more  interesting  than  ever. 
In  Latin,  I  am  reading  Horace's  odes.  Although  I 
find  them  difficult  to  translate,  yet  I  think  they 
are  the  loveliest  pieces  of  Latin  poetry  I  have  read 
or  shall  ever  read.  In  French  we  have  finished 
"Colomba,"  and  I  am  reading  "Horace"  by  Corneille 
and  La  Fontaine's  fables,  both  of  which  are  in  braille. 
I  have  not  gone  far  in  either;  but  I  know  I  shall 
enjoy  the  fables,  they  are  so  delightfully  written, 
and  give  such  good  lessons  in  a  simple  and  yet 
attractive  way.  I  do  not  think  I  have  told  you 
that  my  dear  teacher  is  reading  "The  Faery  Queen" 
to  me.  I  am  afraid  I  find  fault  with  the  poem  as 
much  as  I  enjoy  it.  I  do  not  care  much  for  the 
•allegories,  indeed  I  often  find  them  tiresome,  and 
I  cannot  help  thinking  that  Spenser's  world  of 
knights,  paynims,  fairies,  dragons  and  all  sorts  of 
strange  creatures  is  a  somewhat  grotesque  and 


A*,  rp]  LETTERS  265 

amusing  world ;  but  the  poem  itself  is  lovely  and  as 
musical  as  a  running  brook. 

I  am  now  the  proud  owner  of  about  fifteen  new 
books,  which  we  ordered  from  Louisville.  Among 
them  are  " Henry  Esmond/'  "Bacon's  Essays"  and 
extracts  from  "English  Literature."  Perhaps  next 
week  I  shall  have  some  more  books,  "The  Tempest/' 
"A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream"  and  possibly  some 
selections  from  Green's  history  of  England.  Am  I 
not  very  fortunate  ? 

I  am  afraid  this  letter  savors  too  much  of  books— 
but  really  they  make  up  my  whole  life  these  days, 
and  I  scarcely  see  or  hear  of  anything  else  !  I  do 
believe  I  sleep  on  books  every  night !  You  know  a 
student's  life  is  of  necessity  somewhat  circum 
scribed  and  narrow  and  crowds  out  almost  every 
thing  that  is  not  in  books.  .  .  . 


TO  THE  CHAIRMAN  OF  THE  ACADEMIC  BOARD 
OF  RADCLIFFE  COLLEGE 

138  BRATTLE  STREET,  CAMBRIDGE,  MASS., 

May  5,   1900. 
Dear  Sir: 

As  an  aid  to  me  in  determining  my  plans  for 
study  the  coming  year,  I  apply  to  you  for  infor 
mation  as  to  the  possibility  of  my  taking  the 
regular  courses  in  Radcliffe  College. 

Since  receiving  my  certificate  of  admission  to 
Radcliffe  last  July,  I  have  been  studying  with,  a 
private  tutor,  Horace,  Aeschylus,  French,  German, 
Rhetoric,  English  History,  English  Literature  and 
Criticism,  and  English  composition- 


266  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

In  college  I  should  wish  to  continue  most,  if  not 
all  of  these  subjects.  The  conditions  under  which 
I  work  require  the  presence  of  Miss  Sullivan,  wha 
has  been  my  teacher  and  companion  for  thirteen 
years,  as  an  interpreter  of  oral  speech  and  as  a  reader 
of  examination  papers.  In  college  she,  or  possibly 
in  some  subjects  some  one  else,  would  of  necessity 
be  with  me  in  the  lecture-room  and  at  recitations. 
I  should  do  all  my  written  work  on  a  typewriter, 
and  if  a  Professor  could  not  understand  my 
speech,  I  could  write  out  my  answers  to  his 
questions  and  hand  them  to  him  after  the  recitation. 

Is  it  possible  for  the  College  to  accommodate 
itself  to  these  unprecedented  conditions,  so  as  to 
enable  me  to  pursue  my  studies  at  Radcliffe?  I 
realize  that  the  obstacles  in  the  way  of  my  receiving 
a  college  education  are  very  great — to  others  they 
may  seem  insurmountable;  but,  dear  Sir,  a  true 
soldier  does  not  acknowledge  defeat  before  the 
battle. 


TO  MRS.  LAURENCE  HUTTON 

138  BRATTLE  STREET,  CAMBRIDGE, 

June  9,  1900. 

...  I  have  not  yet  heard  from  the  Academic 
Board  in  reply  to  my  letter;  but  I  sincerely  hope 
they  will  answer  favorably.  My  friends  think  it 
very  strange  that  they  should  hesitate  so  long, 
especially  when  I  have  not  asked  them  to  simplify 
iny  work  in  the  least,  but  only  to  modify  it  so  as  to 
meet  the  existing  circumstances.  Cornell  has  offered 


A*.  2d\  LETTERS  267 

to  make  arrangements  suited  to  the  conditions  under 
which  I  work,  if  I  should  decide  to  go  to  that  college, 
and  the  University  of  Chicago  has  made  a  similar 
offer;  but  I  am  afraid  if  I  went  to  any  other  college, 
it  would  be  thought  that  I  did  not  pass  my  exarni^ 
nations  for  Radcliffe  satisfactorily.  .  .  . 


In  the  fall  Miss  Keller  entered  Radcliffe  College. 


TO  MR.  JOHN  HITZ 

14  COOLIDGE  AVE.,  CAMBRIDGE, 
Nov.  26,  1900. 

.    .    .    has  already  communicated  with  you  in 

regard  to  her  and  my  plan  of  establishing  an  institu 
tion  for  deaf  and  blind  children.  At  first  I  was  most 
enthusiastic  in  its  support,  and  I  never  dreamed 
that  any  grave  objections  could  be  raised  except 
indeed  by  those  who  are  hostile  to  Teacher ;  but  now, 
after  thinking  most  seriously  and  consulting  my/ 
friends,  I  have  decided  that  -  -'s  plan  is  by  no 
means  feasible.  In  my  eagerness  to  make  it  possible 
for  deaf  and  blind  children  to  have  the  same  advan-, 
tages  that  I  have  had,  I  quite  forgot  that  there  might* 
be  many  obstacles  in  the  way  of  my  accomplishing 
anything  like  what proposed. 

My  friends  thought  we  might  have  one  or  two 
pupils  in  our  own  home,  thereby  securing  to  me  the 
advantage  of  being  helpful  to  others  without  any  of 
the  disadvantages  of  a  large  school.  They  were  very 
kind;  but  I  could  not  help  feeling  that  they  spoke 


268  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  [Mw.  26,  >co 

more  from  a  business  than  a  humanitarian  point  of 
view.  I  am  sure  they  did  not  quite  understand  how 
passionately  I  desire  that  all  who  are  afflicted  like 
myself  shall  receive  their  rightful  inheritance  of 
thought,  knowledge  and  love.  Still  I  could  not 
shut  my  eyes  to  the  force  and  weight  of  their  argu 
ments,  and  I  saw  plainly  that  I  must  abandon 's 

scheme  as  impracticable.  They  also  said  that  I 
ought  to  appoint  an  advisory  committee  to  control 
my  affairs  while  I  am  at  Radcliffe.  I  considered 
this  suggestion  carefully,  then  I  told  Mr.  Rhoades 
that  I  should  be  proud  and  glad  to  have  wise  friends 
to  whom  I  could  always  turn  for  advice  in  all 
important  matters.  For  this  committee  I  chose  six, 
my  mother,  Teacher,  because  she  is  like  a  mother  to 
me,  Mrs.  Hutton,  Mr.  Rhoades,  Dr.  Greer  and 
Mr.  Rogers,  because  it  is  they  who  have  supported 
me  all  these  years  and  made  it  possible  for  me  to 
enter  college.  Mrs.  Hutton  had  already  written  to 
mother,  asking  her  to  telegraph  if  she  was  willing 
for  me  to  have  other  advisers  besides  herself  and 
Teacher.  This  morning  we  received  word  that 
mother  had  given  her  consent  to  this  arrangement. 
Now  it  remains  for  me  to  write  to  Dr.  Greer  and 
Mr.  Rogers.  .  .  . 

We  had  a  long  talk  with  Dr.  Bell.  Finally  he 
proposed  a  plan  which  delighted  us  all  beyond  words. 
He  said  that  it  was  a  gigantic  blunder  to  attempt  to 
found  a  school  for  deaf  and  blind  children,  because 
then  they  would  lose  the  most  precious  opportuni 
ties  of  entering  into  the  fuller,  richer,  freer  life  of 
seeing  and  hearing  children.  I  had  had  misgivings 
on  this  point;  but  I  could  not  see  how  we  were  to 
iielp  it.  However  Mr.  Bell  suggested  that  > 


A*t.  20}  LETTERS  2 §9 

and  all  her  friends  who  are  interested  in  her  scheme 
should  organize  an  association  for  the  promotion  of 
the  education  of  the  deaf  and  blind,  Teacher  and 
myself  being  included  of  course.  Under  his  plan 
they  were  to  appoint  Teacher  to  train  others  to 
instruct  deaf  and  blind  children  in  their  own  homes, 
just  as  she  had  taught  me.  Funds  were  to  be  raised 
for  the  teachers'  lodgings  and  also  for  their  salaries. 
At  the  same  time  Dr.  Bell  added  that  I  could 
rest  content  and  fight  my  way  through  Radcliffe  in 
competition  with  seeing  and  hearing  girls,  while  the 
great  desire  of  my  heart  was  being  fulfilled.  We 

clapped  our  hands  and  shouted;  went  away 

beaming  with  pleasure,  and  Teacher  and  I  felt  more 
light  of  heart  than  we  had  for  sometime.  Of  course 
we  can  do  nothing  just  now ;  but  the  painful  anxiety 
about  my  college  work  and  the  future  welfare  of  the 
deaf  and  blind  has  been  lifted  from  our  minds.  Do 
tell  me  what  you  think  about  Dr.  Bell's  sugges 
tion.  It  seems  most  practical  and  wise  to  me ;  but 
I  must  know  all  that  there  is  to  be  known  about  it 
before  I  speak  or  act  in  the  matter.  .  .  . 


TO   MR.    JOHN   D.    WRIGHT 

CAMBRIDGE,  December  9,  1900. 
Do  you  think  me  a  villain  and — I  can't  think  of 
d  word  bad  enough  to  express  your  opinion  of  me, 
unless  indeed  horse-thief  will  answer  the  purpose. 
Tell  me  truly,  do  you  think  me  as  bad  as  that  ?  I 
hope  not;  for  I  have  thought  many  letters  to  you 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 

which  never  got  on  paper,  and  I  am  delighted  to 
get  your  good  letter,  yes,  I  really  was,  and  I  intended 
to  answer  it  immediately;  but  the  days  slip  by 
unnoticed  when  one  is  busy,  and  I  have  been  VERY 
busy  this  fall.  You  must  believe  that.  Radcliffe 
girls  are  always  up  to  their  ears  in  work.  If  you 
doubt  it,  you'd  better  come  and  see  for  yourself. 

Yes,  I  am  taking  the  regular  college  course  for  a 
degree.  When  I  am  a  B.A.,  I  suppose  you  will 
not  dare  call  me  a  villain  !  I  am  studying  English — • 
Sophomore  English,  if  you  please,  (though  I  can't 
see  that  it  is  different  from  just  plain  English) 
German,  French  and  History.  I'm  enjoying  my 
work  even  more  than  I  expected  to,  which  is  another 
way  of  saying  that  I'm  glad  I  came.  It  is  hard, 
very  hard  at  times;  but  it  hasn't  swamped  me  yet. 
No,  I  am  not  studying  Mathematics,  or  Greek  or 
Latin  either.  The  courses  at  Radcliffe  are  elective, 
only  certain  courses  in  English  are  prescribed. 
I  passed  off  my  English  and  advanced  French 
before  I  entered  college,  and  I  choose  the  courses  I 
like  best.  I  don't  however  intend  to  give  up 
Latin  and  Greek  entirely.  Perhaps  I  shall  take  up 
these  studies  later;  but  I've  said  goodbye  to  Mathe 
matics  forever,  and  I  assure  you,  I  was  delighted 
to  see  the  last  of  those  horrid  goblins !  I  hope  to 
obtain  my  degree  in  four  years ;  but  I'm  not  very 
particular  about  that.  There's  no  great  hurry,  and 
I  want  to  get  as  much  as  possible  out  of  my  studies. 
Many  of  my  friends  would  be  well  pleased  if  I  would 
take  two  or  even  one  course  a  year;  but  I  rather 
object  to  spending  the  rest  of  my  life  in  college.  .  ,  . 


Aet.2o)  LETTERS  27$ 

TO  MR.  WILLIAM  WADE 

14  COOLIDGE  AVENUE,  CAMBRIDGE, 
December  9,  1900. 

.  .  .  Since  you  are  so  much  interested  in  tha 
deaf  and  blind,  I  will  begin  by  telling  you  of  several 
cases  I  have  come  across  lately.  Last  October  I 
heard  of  an  unusually  bright  little  girl  in  Texas. 
Her  name  is  Ruby  Rice,  and  she  is  thirteen  years  old, 
I  think.  She  has  never  been  taught;  but  they 
say  she  can  sew  and  likes  to  help  others  in  this  sort 
of  work.  Her  sense  of  smell  is  wonderful.  Why, 
when  she  enters  a  store,  she  will  go  straight  to  the 
showcases,  and  she  can  also  distinguish  her  own 
things.  Her  parents  are  very  anxious  indeed  to 
find  a  teacher  for  her.  They  have  also  written  to 
Mr.  Hitz  about  her. 

I  also  know  a  child  at  the  Institution  for  the  Deaf 
in  Mississippi.  Her  name  is  Maud  Scott,  and  she 
is  six  years  old.  Miss  Watkins,  the  lady  who  has 
charge  of  her  wrote  me  a  most  interesting  letter. 
She  said  that  Maud  was  born  deaf  and  lost  her  sight 
when  she  was  only  three  months  old,  and  that 
when  she  went  to  the  Institution  a  few  weeks  ago. 
she  was  quite  helpless.  She  could  not  even  walk 
and  had  very  little  use  of  her  hands.  When  they 
tried  to  teach  her  to  string  beads,  her  little  hands  fell 
to  her  side.  Evidently  her  sense  of  touch  has  not 
been  developed,  and  as  yet  she  can  walk  only  when 
she  holds  some  one's  hand ;  but  she  seems  to  be  an 
exceedingly  bright  child.  Miss  Watkins  adds  that 
she  is  very  pretty.  I  have  written  to  her  that  when 
Maud  learns  to  read,  I  shall  have  many  stories  to 
send  her.  The  dear,  sweet  little  girl,  it  makes  my 
heart  ache  to  think  how  utterly  she  is  cut  off  from  all 


272  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  [Dec.2o,-oo 

that  is  good  and  desirable  in  life.     But  Miss  Watkins 
seems  to  be  just  the  kind  of  teacher  she  needs. 

I  was  in  New  York  not  long  ago  and  I  saw  Miss 
Rhoades,  who  told  me  that  she  had  seen  Katie 
McGirr.  She  said  the  poor  young  girl  talked  and 
acted  exactly  like  a  little  child.  Katie  played  with 
Miss  Rhoades's  rings  and  took  them  away,  saying 
with  a  merry  laugh,  "You  shall  not  have  them 
again !"  She  could  only  understand  Miss  Rhoades 
when  she  talked  about  the  simplest  things.  The 
latter  wished  to  send  her  some  books ;  but  she  could 
not  find  anything  simple  enough  for  her  !  She  said 
Katie  was  very  sweet  indeed,  but  sadly  in  need  of 
proper  instruction.  I  was  much  surprised  to  hear 
all  this ;  for  I  judged  from  your  letters  that  Katie  was 
a  very  precocious  girl.  .  .  . 

A  few  days  ago  I  met  Tommy  Stringer  in  the 
railroad  station  at  Wrentham.  He  is  a  great, 
strong  boy  now,  and  he  will  soon  need  a  man  to 
take  care  of  him ;  he  is  really  too  big  for  a  lady  to 
manage.  He  goes  to  the  public  school,  I  hear,  and 
his  progress  is  astonishing,  they  say;  but  it  doesrf' 
show  as  yet  in  his  conversation,  which  is  limited 
to  "Yes"  and  "No." 


TO  MR.  CHARLES  T.  COPELAND 

DECEMBER  20,  1900. 
My  dear  Mr.  Copeland; 

I  venture  to  write  to  you  because   I   am  afraid 
that    if    I    do   not  explain  why  I    have   stopped 


Aet.  20]  LETTERS  273 

writing  themes,  you  will  think  I  have  become 
discouraged,  or  perhaps  that  to  escape  criticism 
I  have  beat  a  cowardly  retreat  from  your  class. 
Please  do  not  think  either  of  these  very  unpleas 
ant  thoughts.  I  am  not  discouraged,  nor  am  I 
afraid.  I  am  confident  that  I  could  go  on  writ 
ing  themes  like  those  I  have  written,  and  I 
suppose  I  should  get  through  the  course  with  fairly 
good  marks ;  but  this  sort  of  literary  patch-work  has 
lost  all  interest  for  me.  I  have  never  been  satisfied 
with  my  work ;  but  I  never  knew  what  my  difficulty 
was  until  you  pointed  it  out  to  me.  When  I  came 
to  your  class  last  October,  I  was  trying  with  all  my 
might  to  be  like  everybody  else,  to  forget  as  entirely 
as  possible  my  limitations  and  peculiar  environment. 
Now,  however,  I  see  the  folly  of  attempting  to  hitch 
one's  wagon  to  a  star  with  harness  that  does  not 
belong  to  it. 

I  have  always  accepted  other  people's  experiences 
and  observations  as  a  matter  of  course.  It  never 
occurred  to  me  that  it  might  be  worth  while  to  make 
my  own  observations  and  describe  the  experiences 
peculiarly  my  own.  Henceforth  I  am  resolved  to 
be  myself,  to  live  my  own  life  and  write  my  own 
thoughts  when  I  have  any.  When  I  have  written 
something  that  seems  to  be  fresh  and  spontaneous 
and  worthy  of  your  criticisms,  I  will  bring  it  to  you, 
if  I  may,  and  if  you  think  it  good,  I  shall  be  happy; 
but  if  your  verdict  is  unfavorable,  I  shall  try  again 
and  yet  again  until  I  have  succeeded  in  pleasing 
you  •  .  * 


«74  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  [Dec.  27,** 

9O  MRS.  LAURENCE  HUTTON 

14  COOLIDGE  AVENUE,   CAMBRIDGE, 

December   27,    1900. 

,  So  you  read  about  our  class  luncheon  in 
the  papers?  How  in  the  world  do  the  papers  find 
out  everything,  I  wonder.  I  am  sure  no  reporter 
was  present.  I  had  a  splendid  time ;  the  toasts  and 
speeches  were  great  fun.  I  only  spoke  a  few  words, 
as  I  did  not  know  I  was  expected  to  speak  until  a 
few  minutes  before  I  was  called  upon.  I  think  I 
wrote  you  that  I  had  been  elected  Vice-President  of 
the  Freshman  Class  of  Radclifle. 

Did  I  tell  you  in  my  last  letter  that  I  had  a  new 
dress,  a  real  party  dress  with  low  neck  and  short 
sleeves  and  quite  a  train  ?  It  is  pale  blue,  trimmed 
with  chiffon  of  the  same  color.  I  have  worn  it  only 
once,  but  then  I  felt  that  Solomon  in  all  his  glory 
was  not  to  be  compared  with  me !  Anyway,  he 
certainly  never  had  a  dress  like  mine  !  .  .  . 

A  gentleman  in  Philadelphia  has  just  written  to 
my  teacher  about  a  deaf  and  blind  child  in  Paris, 
whose  parents  are  Poles.  The  mother  is  a  physician 
and  a  brilliant  woman,  he  says.  This  little  boy 
could  speak  two  or  three  languages  before  he  lost  his 
hearing  through  sickness,  and  he  is  now  only  about 
five  years  old.  Poor  little  fellow,  I  wish  I  could  do 
something  for  him;  but  he  is  so  young,  my  teacher 
thinks  it  would  be  too  bad  to  separate  him  from  his 
mother.  I  have  had  a  letter  from  Mrs.  Thaw  with 
regard  to  the  possibility  of  doing  something  for 
these  children.  Dr.  Bell  thinks  the  present  census 
will  show  that  there  are  more  than  a  thousand* 

*  The  number  of  deaf-blind  young  enough  to  be  benefited  by 
education  is  not  so  large  as  this ;  but  the  education  of  this  class 
of  defectives  has  been  neglected. 


A#.2o\  LETTERS  275 

in  the  United  States  alone;  and  Mrs.  Thaw 
thinks  if  all  my  friends  were  to  unite  their  efforts, 
"it  would  be  an  easy  matter  to  establish  at  the 
beginning  of  this  new  century  a  new  line  upon  which 
mercy  might  travel, "  and  the  rescue  of  these  unfor 
tunate  children  could  be  accomplished.  .  .  . 


TO  MR.    WILLIAM    WADE 

CAMBRIDGE,  February  2,  1901. 
.  ,  .  By  the  way,  have  you  any  specimens  of 
English  braille  especially  printed  for  those  who  have 
lost  their  sight  late  in  life  or  have  fingers  hardened 
by  long  toil,  so  that  their  touch  is  less  sensitive  than 
that  of  other  blind  people?  I  read  an  account  of 
such  a  system  in  one  of  my  English  magazines,  and 
I  am  anxious  to  know  more  about  it.  If  it  is  as 
efficient  as  they  say,  I  see  no  reason  why  English 
braille  should  not  be  adopted  by  the  blind  of  all 
countries.  Why,  it  is  the  print  that  can  be  most 
readily  adapted  to  many  different  languages.  Even 
Greek  can  be  embossed  in  it,  as  you  know.  Then, 
too,  it  will  be  rendered  still  more  efficient  by  the 
"  interpointing  system, "  which  will  save  an  immense 
amount  of  space  and  paper.  There  is  nothing  more 
absurd,  I  think,  than  to  have  five  or  six  different 
prints  for  the  blind.  .  .  . 


This  letter  was  written  in  response  to  a  tentative 
rffer  from  the  editor  of  The  Great  Round  World  to 


e76  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  [Feb.  16^01 

have  the  magazine  published  in  raised  type  for  the 
blind,  if  enough  were  willing  to  subscribe.  It  is 
evident  that  the  blind  should  have  a  good  magazine, 
not  a  special  magazine  for  the  blind,  but  one  of  our 
best  monthlies,  printed  in  embossed  letters.  The 
blind  alone  could  not  support  it,  but  it  would  not 
take  very  much  money  to  make  up  the  additional 
expense. 


TO  The  Great  Round  World 

CAMBRIDGE,  Feb.   16,    1901. 
The  Great  Round  World, 
New  York  City. 

Gentlemen:  I  have  only  to-day  found  time  to 
reply  to  your  interesting  letter.  A  little  bird  had 
already  sung  the  good  news  in  my  ear;  but  it  was 
doubly  pleasant  to  have  it  straight  from  you. 

It  would  be  splendid  to  have  The  Great  Round 
W^rld  printed  in  "language  that  can  be  felt."  I 
doubt  if  any  one  who  enjoys  the  wondrous  privilege 
of  seeing  can  have  any  conception  of  the  boon  such 
a  publication  as  you  contemplate  would  be  to  the 
sightless.  To  be  able  to  read  for  one's  self  what  is 
being  willed,  thought  and  done  in  the  world — the 
world  in  whose  joys  and  sorrows,  failures  and  suc 
cesses  one  feels  the  keenest  interest — that  would 
indeed  be  a  happiness  too  deep  for  words.  I  trust 
that  the  effort  of  The  Great  Round  World  to  bring 
light  to  those  who  sit  in  darkness  will  receive  the 
encouragement  and  support  it  so  richly  deserves 

I  doubt,  however,  if  the  number  of  subscribers  to 
an  embossed  edition  of  The  Great  Round  World  would 
ever  be  large ;  for  I  am  told  that  the  blind  as  a  class 


A*.  2i]  LETTERS  277 

are  poor.  But  why  should  not  the  friends  of  the 
blind  assist  The  Great  Round  World,  if  necessary? 
Surely  there  are  hearts  and  hands  ever  ready  to 
make  it  possible  for  generous  intentions  to  be 
wrought  into  noble  deeds. 

Wishing  you  godspeed  in  an  undertaking  that  is 
very  dear  to  my  heart,  I  am,  etc. 


TO    MISS    NINA    RHOADES 

CAMBRIDGE,  Sept.  25,  1901. 
.  We  remained  in  Halifax  until  about  the 
middle  of  August.  .  .  .  Day  after  day  the 
Harbor,  the  warships,  and  the  park  kept  us  busy 
thinking  and  feeling  and  enjoying.  .  .  .  When 
the  Indiana  visited  Halifax,  we  were  invited  to  go 
on  board,  and  she  sent  her  own  launch  for  us.  I 
touched  the  immense  cannon,  read  with  my  fingers 
several  of  the  names  of  the  Spanish  ships  that  were 
captured  at  Santiago,  and  felt  the  places  wrhere  she 
had  been  pierced  with  shells.  The  Indiana  was  the 
largest  and  finest  ship  in  the  Harbor,  and  we  felt 
very  proud  of  her. 

After  we  left  Halifax,  we  visited  Dr.  Bell  at 
Cape  Breton.  He  has  a  charming,  romantic  house 
on  a  mountain  called  Beinn  Bhreagh,  which  over 
looks  the  Bras  d'Or  Lake.  .  .  . 

Dr.  Bell  told  me  many  interesting  things  about 
his  work.  He  had  just  constructed  a  boat  that 
could  be  propelled  by  a  kite  with  the  wind  in 
its  favor,  and  one  day  he  tried  experiments  to 


278  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  [Nov.  iot  '01 

see  if  he  could  steer  the  kite  against  the  wind.  I 
was  there  and  really  helped  him  fly  the  kites.  On 
one  of  them  I  noticed  that  the  strings  were  of  wire, 
and  having  had  some  experience  in  bead  work,  I 
said  I  thought  they  would  break.  Dr.  Bell  said 
"  No  !"  with  great  confidence,  and  the  kite  was  sent 
up.  It  began  to  pull  and  tug,  and  lo,  the  wires  broke, 
and  off  went  the  great  red  dragon,  and  poor  Dr. 
Bell  stood  looking  forlornly  after  it.  After  that  he 
asked  me  if  the  strings  were  all  right  and  changed 
them  at  once  when  I  answered  in  the  negative. 
Altogether  we  had  great  fun.  .  .  . 


TO    DR.    EDWARD    EVERETT    HALE* 

CAMBRIDGE,  Nov.  10,  1901. 

My  teacher  and  I  expect  to  be  present  at  the 
meeting  tomorrow  in  commemoration  of  the  one 
hundredth  anniversary  of  Dr.  Howe's  birth:  but 
I  very  much  doubt  if  we  shall  have  an  opportunity 
to  speak  with  you ;  so  I  am  writing  now  to  tell  you 
how  delighted  I  am  that  you  are  to  speak  at  the 
meeting,  because  I  feel  that  you,  better  than  any  one 
I  Know  will  express  the  heartfelt  gratitude  of  those 
who  owe  their  education,  their  opportunities,  their 
happiness  to  him  who  opened  the  eyes  of  the  blind 
and  gave  the  dumb  lip  language. 

Sitting  here  in  my  study,  surrounded  by  my  books, 
enjoying  the  sweet  and  intimate  companionship  of 

*  Read  by  Dr.  Hale  at  the  celebration  of  the  centenary  of  Dr, 
Samuel  Gridley  Howe,  atTremoiit  Temple,  Boston,  Nov.  11,1901. 


Aet.2i]  LETTERS  279 

the  great  and  the  wise,  I  am  trying  to  realize  what 
my  life  might  have  been,  if  Dr.  Howe  had  failed 
in  the  great  task  God  gave  him  to  perform.  If  he 
had  not  taken  upon  himself  the  responsibility  of 
Laura  Bridgman's  education  and  led  her  out  of  the 
pit  of  Acheron  back  to  her  human  inheritance,! 
should  I  be  a  sophomore  at  Radcliffe  College 
to-day — who  can  say?  But  it  is  idle  to  speculate 
about  what  might  have  been  in  connection  with 
Dr.  Howe's  great  achievement. 

I  think  only  those  who  have  escaped  that  death- 
in-life  existence,  from  which  Laura  Bridgman  was 
rescued,  can  realize  how  isolated,  how  shrouded  in 
darkness,  how  cramped  by  its  own  impotence  is  a 
soul  without  thought  or  faith  or  hope.  Words  are 
powerless  to  describe  the  desolation  of  that  prison- 
house,  or  the  joy  of  the  soul  that  is  delivered  out  of 
its  captivity.  When  we  compare  the  needs  and 
helplessness  of  the  blind  before  Dr.  Howe  began 
his  work,  with  their  present  usefulness  and  inde 
pendence,  we  realize  that  great  things  have  been 
done  in  our  midst.  What  if  physical  conditions 
have  built  up  high  walls  about  us?  Thanks  to  our 
friend  and  helper,  our  world  lies  upward ;  the  length 
and  breadth  and  sweep  of  the  heavens  are  ours  ! 

It  is  pleasant  to  think  that  Dr.  Howe's  noble 
deeds  will  receive  their  due  tribute  of  affection  and 
gratitude,  in  the  city  which  was  the  scene  of  his 
great  labors  and  splendid  victories  for  humanity. 

W^ith  kind  greetings,  in  which  my  teacher  joins 
me,  I  am 

Affectionately  your  friend, 

HELEN   KELLER. 


*8o  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE  IN<*>.  25,  '01 

TO    THE    HON.    GEORGE    FRISBIE    HOAR 

CAMBRIDGE,  MASS.,  November  25,  1901. 
My  Dear  Senator  Hoar:— 

I  am  glad  you  liked  my  letter  about  Dr.  Howe. 
It  was  written  out  of  my  heart,  and  perhaps  that 
is  why  it  met  a  sympathetic  response  in  other 
hearts.  I  will  ask  Dr.  Hale  to  lend  me  the  letter, 
so  that  I  can  make  a  copy  of  it  for  you. 

You  see,  I  use  a  typewriter — it  is  my  right  hand 
man,  so  to  speak.  Without  it  I  do  not  see  how  I 
could  go  to  college.  I  write  all  my  themes  and 
examinations  on  it,  even  Greek.  Indeed,  it  has 
only  one  drawback,  and  that  probably  is  regarded 
as  an  advantage  by  the  professors ;  it  is  that  one's 
mistakes  may  be  detected  at  a  glance ;  for  there  is 
no  chance  to  hide  them  in  illegible  writing. 

I  know  you  will  be  amused  when  I  tell  you  that  I 
atn  deeply  interested  in  politics.  I  like  to  have  the 
papers  read  to  me,  and  I  try  to  understand  the  great 
questions  of  the  day ;  but  I  am  afraid  my  knowledge 
is  very  unstable;  for  I  change  my  opinions  with 
every  new  book  I  read.  I  used  to  think  that  when  I 
studied  Civil  Government  and  Economics,  all  my 
difficulties  and  perplexities  would  blossom  into 
beautiful  certainties ;  but  alas,  I  find  that  there  are 
more  tares  than  wheat  in  these  fertile  fields  of 
knowledge.  .  .  . 


PART  III 


A  SUPPLEMENTARY  ACCOUNT 

OF  HELEN  KELLER'S  LIFE  AND 

EDUCATION 

The  Writing  of  the  Book. 

Personality. 

Education. 

Speech. 

Literary  Style. 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  WRITING  OF  THE   BOOK 

IT  is  fitting  that  Miss  Keller's  "Story  of  My  Life"  should 
appear  at  this  time.  What  is  remarkable  in  her  career  is 
already  accomplished,  and  whatever  she  may  do  in  the 
future  will  be  but  a  relatively  slight  addition  to  the  success  which 
distinguishes  her  now.  That  success  has  just  been  assured,  for 
it  is  her  work  at  Radcliffe  during  the  last  two  years  which  has 
shown  that  she  can  carry  her  education  as  far  as  if  she  were 
studying  under  normal  conditions.  Whatever  doubts  Miss 
Keller  herself  may  have  had  are  now  at  rest. 

Several  passages  of  her  autobiography,  as  it  appeared  in  serial 
form,  have  been  made  the  subject  of  a  grave  editorial  in  a  Boston 
newspaper,  in  which  the  writer  regretted  Miss  Keller's  apparent 
disillusionment  in  regard  to  the  value  of  her  college  life.  He 
quoted  the  passages  in  which  she  explains  that  college  is  not 
the  "universal  Athens"  she  had  hoped  to  find,  and  cited  the 
cases  of  other  remarkable  persons  whose  college  life  had  proved 
disappointing.  But  it  is  to  be  remembered  that  Miss  Keller 
has  written  many  things  in  her  autobiography  for  the  fun  of 
writing  them,  and  the  disillusion,  which  the  writer  of  the  edi^ 
torial  took  seriously,  is  in  great  part  humorous.  Miss  Keller 
does  not  suppose  her  views  to  be  of  great  importance,  and 
when  she  utters  her  opinions  on  important  matters  she  takes 
it  for  granted  that  her  reader  will  receive  them  as  the  opinions 
of  a  junior  in  college,  not  of  one  who  writes  with  the  wisdom 
of  maturity.  For  instance,  it  surprised  her  that  some  people 
were  annoyed  at  what  she  said  about  the  Bible,  and  she  was 
amused  that  they  did  not  see,  what  was  plain  enough,  that 
she  had  been  obliged  to  read  the  whole  Bible  in  a  course  in 
English  literature,  not  as  a  religious  duty  put  upon  her  by 
her  teacher  or  her  parents. 

I  ought  to  apologize  to  the  reader  and  to  Miss  Keller  for  pre 
suming  to  say  what  her  subject  matter  is  worth,  but  one  more 

283 


284      A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 

explanation  is  necessary.  In  her  account  of  her  early  educa 
tion  Miss  Keller  is  not  giving  a  scientifically  accurate  record  of  her 
life,  nor  even  of  the  important  events.  She  cannot  know  in 
detail  how  she  was  taught,  and  her  memory  of  her  childhood 
is  in  some  cases  an  idealized  memory  of  what  she  has  learned 
later  from  her  teacher  and  others.  She  is  less  able  to  recall 
events  of  fifteen  years  ago  than  most  of  us  are  to  recollect  our 
childhood.  That  is  why  her  teacher's  records  may  be  found 
to  differ  in  some  particulars  from  Miss  Keller's  account. 

The  way  in  which  Miss  Keller  wrote  her  story  shows,  as 
nothing  else  can  show,  the  difficulties  she  had  to  overcome. 
When  we  write,  we  can  go  back  over  our  work,  shuffle  the 
pages,  interline,  rearrange,  see  how  the  paragraphs  look  in  proof, 
and  so  construct  the  whole  work  before  the  eye,  as  an  architect 
constructs  his  plans.  When  Miss  Keller  puts  her  work  in 
typewritten  form,  she  cannot  refer  to  it  again  unless  some  one 
reads  it  to  her  by  means  of  the  manual  alphabet. 

This  difficulty  is  in  part  obviated  by  the  use  of  her  braille 
machine,  which  makes  a  manuscript  that  she  can  read;  but  a? 
her  work  must  be  put  ultimately  in  typewritten  form,  and  as 
a  braille  machine  is  somewhat  cumbersome,  she  has  got  into 
the  habit  of  writing  directly  on  her  typewriter.  She  depends 
so  little  on  her  braille  manuscript,  that,  when  she  began  to  write 
her  story  more  than  a  year  ago  and  had  put  in  braille  a  hundred 
pages  of  material  and  notes,  she  made  the  mistake  of  destroying 
these  notes  before  she  had  finished  her  manuscript.  Tints 
she  composed  much  of  her  story  on  the  typewriter,  and  in  con 
structing  it  as  a  whole  depended  on  her  memory  to  guide  her 
in  putting  together  the  detached  episodes,  which  Miss  Sullivan 
read  over  to  her. 

Last  July,  when  she  had  finished  under  great  pressure  of 
work  her  final  chapter,  she  set  to  work  to  rewrite  the  whole 
story.  Her  good  friend,  Mr.  William  Wade,  had  a  complete 
braille  copy  made  for  her  from  the  magazine  proofs.  Then 
for  the  first  time  she  had  her  whole  manuscript  under  her  finger 
at  once.  She  saw  imperfections  in  the  arrangement  of  para 
graphs  and  the  repetition  of  phrases.  She  saw,  too,  that  her 
story  properly  fell  into  short  chapters  and  redivided  it. 

Partly  from  temperament,  partly  from  the  conditions  of  her 
work,  she  has  written  rather  a  series  of  brilliant  passages 
than  a  unified  narrative;  in  point  of  fact,  several  paragraphs 


THE  WRITING  OF  THE   BOOK        285 

of  her  story  are  short  themes  written  in  her  English  courses, 
fend  the  small  unit  sometimes  shows  its  original  limits. 

In  rewriting  the  story,  Miss  Keller  made  corrections  on  sepa 
rate  pages  on  her  braille  machine.  Long  corrections  she  wrote 
out  on  her  typewriter,  with  catch-words  to  indicate  where  they 
belonged.  Then  she  read  from  her  braille  copy  the  entire 
story,  making  corrections  as  she  read,  which  were  taken  down 
on  the  manuscript  that  went  to  the  printer.  During  this 
revision  she  discussed  questions  of  subject  matter  and  phrasing. 
She  sat  running  her  finger  over  the  braille  manuscript,  stopping 
now  and  then  to  refer  to  the  braille  notes  on  which  she  had 
indicated  her  corrections,  all  the  time  reading  aloud  to  verify 
che  manuscript. 

She  listened  to  criticism  just  as  any  author  listens  to  his 
friends  or  his  editor.  Miss  Sullivan,  who  is  an  excellent  critic, 
made  suggestions  at  many  points  in  the  course  of  composition 
and  revision.  One  newspaper  suggested  that  Miss  Keller 
had  been  led  into  writing  the  book  and  had  been  influencea 
to  put  certain  things  into  it  by  zealous  friends.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  most  of  the  advice  she  has  received  and  heeded  has  led 
to  excisions  rather  than  to  additions.  The  book  is  Miss  Keller's 
and  is  final  proof  of  her  independent  power. 


CHAPTER   II 

PERSONALITY 

MARK  TWAIN  has  said  that  the  two  most  interesting  charac 
ters  of  the  nineteenth  century  are  Napoleon  and  Helen  Keller. 
The  admiration  with  which  the  world  has  regarded  her  is  more 
than  justified  by  what  she  has  done.  No  one  can  tell  any 
great  truth  about  her  which  has  not  already  been  written,  and 
all  that  I  can  do  is  to  give  a  few  more  facts  about  Miss  Keller's 
work  and  add  a  little  to  what  is  known  of  her  personality. 

Miss  Keller  is  tall  and  strongly  built,  and  has  always  had  good 
health.  She  seems  to  be  more  nervous  than  she  really  is,  because 
she  expresses  more  with  her  hands  than  do  most  English- 
speaking  people.  One  reason  for  this  habit  of  gesture  is 
that  her  hands  have  been  so  long  her  instruments  of  com 
munication  that  they  have  taken  to  themselves  the  quick 
shiftings  of  the  eye,  and  express  some  of  the  things  that  we 
«  say  in  a  glance.  All  deaf  people  naturally  gesticulate.  Indeed, 
at  one  time  it  was  believed  that  the  best  way  for  them  to  com- 
.  municate  was  through  systematized  gestures,  the  sign  language 
'  invented  by  the  Abbe  de  1'Epee. 

When  Miss  Keller  speaks,  her  face  is  animated  and  expresses 
Ell  the  modes  of  her  thought — the  expressions  that  make  the 
features  eloquent  and  give  speech  half  its  meaning.  On  the 
other  hand  she  does  not  know  another's  expression.  When 
she  is  talking  with  an  intimate  friend,  however,  her  hand  goes 
quickly  to  her  friend's  face  to  see,  as  she  says,  "the  twist  of 
the  mouth."  In  this  way  she  is  able  to  get  the  meaning  of 
those  half  sentences  which  we  complete  unconsciously  from 
the  tone  of  the  voice  or  the  twinkle  of  the  eye. 

Her  memory  of  people  is  remarkable.  She  remembers  the 
grasp  of  fingers  she  has  held  before,  all  the  characteristic 
tightening  of  the  muscles  that  makes  one  person's  handshake 
different  from  that  of  another. 

The  trait  most  characteristic,  perhaps,  of  Miss  Keller  (and  alsff 

286 


PERSONALITY  287 

of  Miss  Sullivan)  is  humour.  Skill  in  the  use  of  words  and  her 
habit  of  playing  witntheni  make  her  ready  with  mots  and  epi 
grams. 

Some  one  asked  her  if  she  liked  to  study. 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  "but  I  like  to  play  also,  and  I  feel  some 
times  as  if  I  were  a  music  box  with  all  the  play  shut  up  inside 
me." 

When  she  met  Dr.  Furness,  the  Shakespearean  scholar,  he 
warned  her  not  to  let  the  college  professors  tell  her  too  many 
assumed  facts  about  the  life  of  Shakespeare;  all  we  know,  he 
said,  is  that  Shakespeare  was  baptized,  married,  and  died. 

"Well,"  she  replied,  "he  seems  to  have  done  all  the  essential 
things." 

Once  a  friend  who  was  learning  the  manual  alphabet  kept 
making  "g,"  which  is  like  the  hand  of  a  sign-post,  for  "h,"  which 
is  made  with  two  fingers  extended.  Finally  Miss  Keller  told 
him  to  "fire  both  baric;ls." 

Mr.  Joseph  Jefferson  was  once  explaining  to  Miss  Keller  what 
the  bumps  on  her  head  meant. 

"That,"  he  said,  "is  your  prize-fighting  bump."  X" 

"I  never  .fight,"  she  replied,  "except  against  difficulties." 

Miss  Keller's  humour  is  that  deeper  kind  of  humour  which  is 
courage. 

Thirteen  years  ago  she  made  up  her  mind  to  learn  to  speak, 
I  and  she  gave  her  teacher  no  rest  until  she  was  allowed  to  take 
j  lessons,  although  wise  people,  even  Miss  Sullivan,  the  wisest  of 
!  them  all,  regarded  it  as  an  experiment  unlikely  to  succeed  and 
almost  sure  to  make  her  unhappy.     It  was  this  same  persever 
ance  that  made  her  go  to  college.     After  she  had  passed  her 
examinations  and  received  her  certificate  of  admission,  she  was 
advised  by  the  Dean  of  Radcliffe  and  others  not  to  go  on.     She 
accordingly  delayed  a  year.     But   she  was  not  satisfied  until 
she  had  carried  out  her  purpose  and  entered  college. 

Her  life  has  been  a  series  of  attempts  to  do  whatever  other 
j  people  do,  and  to  do  it  as  well.  Her  success  has  been  complete, 
for  in  trying  to  be  like  other  people  she  has  come  most  fully 
to  be  herself.  Her  unwillingness  to  be  beaten  has  developed  \/ 
her  courage.  Where  another  can  go,  she  can  go./  Her  respect 
for  physical  bravery  is  like  Stevenson's — the  boy's  contempt  for 
the  fellow  who  cries,  with  a  touch  of  young  bravado  in  it.  She 
takes  tramps  in  the  woods,  plunging  through  the  underbrush 


288      A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 

v'  where  she  is  scratched  and  bruised ;  yet  you  could  not  get  her  to 
admit  that  she  is  hurt,  and  you  certainly  could  not  persuade  her 
to  stay  at  home  next  time. 
..  So  when  people  try  experiments  with  her,  she  displays  a 

^sportsmanlike  determination  to  win  in  any  test,  however  unrea 
sonable,  that  one  may  wish  to  put  her  to. 
^  If  she  does  not  know  the  answer  to  a  question,  she  guesses 

*with  mischievous  assurance.  Ask  her  the  colour  of  your  coat 
(no  blind  person  can  tell  colour),  she  will  feel  it  and  say 
"black."  If  it  happens  to  be  blue,  and  you  tell  her  so  triumph 
antly,  she  is  likely  to  answer,  "Thank  you.  I  am  glad  you 
know.  Why  did  YOU  ask  me^i 

Her  whimsical  and  adventuresome  spirit  puts  her  so  mucli 
on  her  mettle  that  she  makes  rather  a  poor  subject  for  the 
psychological  experimenter.  Moreover,  Miss  Sullivan  does  not 
see  why  Miss  Keller  should  be  subjected  to  the  investigation 
of  the  scientist,  and  has  not  herself  made  many  experiments. 
When  a  psychologist  asked  her  if  Miss  Keller  spelled  on  her 
Angers  in  her  sleep,  Miss  Sullivan  replied  that  she  did  not  think 
it  worthwhile  to  sit  up  and  watch,  such  matters  were  of  so  little 
consequence. 

Miss  Keller  likes  to  be  part  of  the  company.  If  any  one 
whom  she  is  touching  laughs  at  a  joke,  she  laughs,  too,  just  as 
if  she  had  heard  it.  If  others  are  aglow  with  music,  a  respond 
ing  glow,  caught  sympathetically,  shines  in  her  face.  Indeed, 
she  feels  the  movements  of  Miss  Sullivan  so  minutely  that  she 
responds  to  her  moods,  and  so  she  seems  to  know  what  is  going 
on,  even  though  the  conversation  has  not  been  spelled  to  her 
for  some  time.  In  the  same  way  her  response  to  music  is  in 
part  sympathetic,  although  she  enjoys  it  for  its  own  sake. 

Music  probably  can  mean  little  to  her  but  beat  and  pulsation. 
She  cannot  sing  and  she  cannot  play  the  piano,  although,  as 
some  early  experiments  show,  she  could  learn  mechanically  to 
beat  out  a  tune  on  the  keys.  Her  enjoyment  of  m¥sic,  however, 
is  very  genuine,  for  she  has  a  tactile  recognition  of  sound  when 
the  waves  of  air  beat  against  her.  Part  of  her  experience  of 
the  rhythm  of  music  comes,  no  doubt,  from  the  vibration  of 
solid  objects  which  she  is  touching:  the  floor,  or,  what  is  more 
evident,  the  case  of  the  piano,  on  which  her  hand  rests.  But  she 
seems  to  feel  the  pulsation  of  the  air  itself.  When  the  organ  was 
played  for  her  in  St.  Bartholomew's,*  the  whole  building  shook 
*Sec  page  a6.» 


PERSONALITY  289 

with  the  great  pedal  notes,  but  that  does  not  altogether  account 
for  what  she  felt  and  enjoyed.  The  vibration  of  the  air  as  the 
organ  notes  swelled  made  her  sway  in  answer.  Sometimes 
she  puts  her  hand  on  a  singer's  throat  to  feel  the  muscular  thrill 
and  contraction,  and  from  this  she  gets  genuine  pleasure.  No 
one  knows,  however,  just  what  her  sensations  are.  It  is  amusing 
to  read  in  one  of  the  magazines  of  1895  that  Miss  Keller  "has 
a  just  and  intelligent  appreciation  of  different  composers  from 
having  literally  felt  their  music,  Schumann  being  her  favourite." 
If  she  knows  the  difference  between  Schumann  and  Beethoven, 
^t  is  because  she  has  read  it,  and  if  she  has  read  it,  she  remembers 
it  and  can  tell  any  one  who  asks  her.  ^ 

Miss  Keller's  effort  to  reach  out  and  meet  other  people  on  their*""" 
own  intellectual  ground  has  kept  her  informed  of  daily  affairs. 
When  her  education  became  more  systematic  and  she  was 
busy  with  books,  it  would  have  been  very  easy  for  Miss  Sullivan 
to  let  her  draw  into  herself,  if  she  had  been  so  inclined.  But 
every  one  who  has  met  her  has  given  his  best  ideas  to  her  and  she 
has  taken  them.  If,  in  the  course  of  a  conversation,  the  friend 
next  to  her  has  ceased  for  some  moments  to  spell  into  her  hand, 
the  question  comes  inevitably,  "What  are  you  talking  about?" 
Thus  she  picks  up  the  fragments  of  the  daily  intercourse  of 
normal  people,  so  that  her  detailed  information  is  singularly  full 
and  accurate.  She  is  a  good  talker  on  the  little  occasional  affairs 
of  life. 

Much  of  her  knowledge  comes  to  her  directly.     When  she  is 
out  walking  she  often  stops  suddenly,  attracted  by  the  odour  of 
a  bit  of  shrubbery.     She  reaches  out  and  touches  the  leaves, 
and  the  world  of  growing  things  is  hers,  as  truly  as  it  is  ours,  to      , 
enjoy  while  she  holds  the  leaves  in  her  fingers  and  smells  the      \ 
blossoms,  and  to  remember  when  the  walk  is  done. 

When  she  is  in  a  new  place,  especially  an  interesting  place  like 
Niagara,  whoever  accompanies  her — usually,  of  course,  Miss 
Sullivan — is  kept  busy  giving  her  an  idea  of  visible  details. 
Miss  Sullivan,  who  knows  her  pupil's  mind,  selects  from  the 
passing  landscape  essential  elements,  which  give  a  certain  clear 
ness  to  Miss  Keller's  imagined  view  of  an  outer  world  that  to 
our  eyes  is  confused  and  overloaded  with  particulars.  If  her 
companion  does  not  give  her  enough  details,  Miss  Keller  asks 
questions  until  she  has  completed  the  view  to  her  satisfaction. 
She  does  not  see  with  her  eyes,  but  through  the  inner  faculty 


A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 


to^  jserve  y/V)1'^  py.es  were  given  to  us.  When  she  returns  from 
a  walk  and  tells  some  one  about  ifThef  descriptions  are  accurate 
and  vivid.  A  comparative  experience  drawn  from  written 
descriptions  and  from  her  teacher's  words  has  kept  her  free  from 
errors  in  her  use  of  terms  of  sound  and  vision.  True,  her  view 
of  life  is  highly  coloured  and  full  of  poetic  exaggeration;  the 
universe,  as  she  sees  it,  is  no  doubt  a  little  better  than  it  really 
is.  But  her  knowledge  of  it  is  not  so  incomplete  as  one  might 
'suppose.  Occasionally  she  astonishes  you  by  ignorance  of  some 
fact  which  no  one  happens  to  have  told  her;  for  instance, 
she  did  not  know,  until  her  first  plunge  into  the  sea,  that  it  is 
salt.  Many  of  the  detached  incidents  and  facts  of  our  daily  life 
pass  around  and  over  her  unobserved;  but  she  has  enough 
,  detailed  acquaintance  with  the  world  to  keep  her  view  of  it  from 
being  essentially  defective. 

Most  jthat  she  _kn.Qws  _at  first  hand,  comes  from_Jie.r  sense  of 
touch.  This  sense  is  not,  however,  so  finely  developed  as  in 
some  other  blind  people.  Laura  Bridgman  could  tell  minute 
shades  of  difference  in  the  size  of  thread,  and  made  beautiful  lace. 
Miss  Keller  used  to  knit  and  crochet,  but  she  has  had  better 
things  to  do.  With  her  varied  powers  and  accomplishments, 
her  sense  of  touch  has  not  been  used  enough  to  develop  it  very 
far  beyond  normal  acuteness.  A  friend  tried  Miss  Keller  one 
day  with  several  coins.  She  was  slower  than  he  expected  her  to 
be  in  identifying  them  by  their  relative  weight  and  size.  But  it 
should  be  said  she  almost  never  handles  money  —  one  of  the  many 
sordid  and  petty  details  of  life,  by  the  way,  which  she  has  been 
spared. 

She  recognizes  the  subject  and  general  intention  of  a  statuette 
six  inches  high.  Anything  shallower  than  a  half-inch  bas-relief 
is  a  blank  to  her,  so  far  as  it  expresses  an  idea  of  beauty.  Large 
statues,  of  which  she  can  feel  the  sweep  of  line  with  her  whole 
hand,  she  knows  in  their  higher  esthetic  value.  She  suggests 
herself  that  she  can  know  them  better  than  we  do,  because  she 
can  get  the  true  dimensions  and  appreciate  more  immediately 
the  solid  nature  of  a  sculptured  figure.  When  she  was  at  the 
Museum  of  Fine  Arts  in  Boston  she  stood  on  a  step-ladder  and 
let  both  hands  play  over  the  statues.  When  she  felt  a  bas-relief 
of  dancing  girls  she  asked,  "Where  are  the  singers?''  When 
she  found  them  she  said»  "One  is  silent."  The  lips  of  the 
singer  were  closed. 


PERSONALITY  291 

It  is,  however,  in  her  daily  life  that  one  can  best  measure  the 
delicacy  of  her  senses  and  her  manual  skill.  She  seems  to  have 
very  little  sense  of  direction.  She  gropes  her  way  without  much  *=- 
certainty  in  rooms  where  she  is  quite  familiar.  Most  blind  people 
are  aided  by  the  sense  of  sound,  so  that  a  fair  comparison  is  hard 
to  make,  except  with  other  deaf-blind  persons.  Her  dexterity- 
is  not  notable  either  in  comparison  with  the  normal  person, 
whose  movements  are  guided  by  the  eye,  or,  I  am  told,  with 
other  blind  people.  She  has  practised  no  single  constructive 
craft  which  would  call  for  the  use  of  her  hands.  When  she  was 
twelve,  her  friend  Mr.  Albert  H.  Munsell,  the  artist,  let  her 
experiment  with  a  wax  tablet  and  a  stylus.  He  says  that  she 
did  pretty  well  and  managed  to  make,  after  models,  some  con 
ventional  designs  of  the  outlines  of  leaves  and  rosettes.  The 
only  thing  she  does  which  requires  skill  with  the  hands  is  her 
work  on  the  typewriter.  Although  she  has  used  the  typewriter  I 
since  she  was  eleven  years  old,  she  is  rather  careful  than  rapid.  I 
She  writes  with  fair  speed  and  absolute  sureness.  Her  manu 
scripts  seldom  contain  typographical  errors  when  she  hands 
them  to  Miss  Sullivan  to  read.  Her  typewriter  has  no  special 
attachments.  She  keeps  the  relative  position  of  the  keys  by 
an  occasional  touch  of  the  little  fingers  on  the  outer  edge  of  the 
board. 

Miss  Keller's  reading  of  the  manual  alphabet  by  her  sense  of 
touch  seems  to  cause  some  perplexity.  Even  people  who  know 
her  fairly  well  have  written  in  the  magazines  about  Miss 
Sullivan's  "mysterious  telegraphic  communications"  with  her 
pupil.  The  manual  alphabet  is  that  in  use  among  all  educated 
deaf  people.  Most  dictionaries  contain  an  engraving  of  the 
manual  letters.  The  deaf  person  with  sight  looks  at  the  fingers 
of  his  companion,  but  it  is  also  possible  to  feel  them.  Miss  Keller 
puts  her  fingers  lightly  over  the  hand  of  one  who  is  talking  to 
her  and  gets  the  words  as  rapidly  as  they  can  be  spelled.  As  she 
explains,  she  is  not  conscious  of  the  single  letters  or  of  sepa 
rate  words.  Miss  Sullivan  and  others  who  live  constantly  with 
the  deaf  can  spell  very  rapidly — fast  enough  to  get  a  slow 
lecture,  not  fast  enough  to  get  every  word  of  a  rapid  speaker. 

Anybody  can  learn  the  manual  letters  in  a  few  minutes,  use » 
them  slowly  in  a  day,  and  in  thirty  days  of  constant  use  talk  to 
Miss  Keller  or  any  other  deaf  person  without  realizing  what  his 
fingers  are  doing.     If  more  people  knew  this,  and  the  friends  and 


292      A  SUPPLEMENTARY  ACCOUNT 

I  relatives  of  deaf  children  learned  the  manual  alphabet  at  once 
1  the  deaf  all  over  the  world  would  be  happier  and  better  educated. 

Miss  Keller  reads  by  means  of  embossed  print  or  the  various 
kinds  of  braille.  The  ordinary  embossed  book  is  made  with 
roman  letters,  both  small  letters  and  capitals.  These  letters 
are  of  simple,  square,  angular  design.  The  small  letters  are 
about  three-sixteenths  of  an  inch  high,  and  are  raised  from  the 
page  the  thickness  of  the  thumbnail.  The  books  are  large,  about 
the  size  of  a  volume  of  an  encyclopedia.  Green's  *  Short  History 
of  the  English  People*  is  in  six  large  volumes.  The  books  are 
not  heavy,  because  the  leaves  with  the  raised  type  do  not  lie  close. 
The  time  that  one  of  Miss  Keller's  friends  realizes  most  strongly 
that  she  is  blind,  is  when  he  comes  on  her  suddenly  in  the  dark 
and  hears  the  rustle  of  her  fingers  across  the  page. 

The  most  convenient  print  for  the  blind  is  braille,  which  has 
several  variations,  too  many,  indeed — English,  American,  New 
York  Point.  Miss  Keller  reads  them  all.  Most  educated  blind 
people  know  several,  but  it  would  save  trouble  if,  as  Miss  Keller 
suggests,  English  braille  were  universally  adopted.  The  fac 
simile  on  page  xv  gives  an  idea  of  how  the  raised  dots  look. 
Each  character  (either  a  letter  or  a  special  braille  contrac 
tion)  is  a  combination  made  by  varying  in  place  and  num 
ber  points  in  six  possible  positions.  Miss  Keller  has  a  braille 
writer  on  which  she  keeps  notes  and  writes  letters  to  her  blind 
friends.  There  are  six  keys,  and  by  pressing  different  combina 
tions  at  a  stroke  (as  one  plays  a  chord  on  the  piano)  the 
operator  makes  a  character  at  a  time  in  a  sheet  of  thick  paper, 
and  can  write  about  half  as  rapidly  as  on  a  typewriter.  Braille 
is  especially  useful  in  making  single  manuscript  copies  of  books. 

Books  for  the  blind  are  very  limited  in  number.  They  cost  a 
great  deal  to  publish  and  they  have  not  a  large  enough  sale  to 
make  them  profitable  to  the  publisher;  but  there  are  several 
institutions  with  special  funds  to  pay  for  embossed  books. 
Miss  Keller  is  more  fortunate  than  most  blind  people  in  the  kind 
ness  of  her  friends  who  have  books  made  especially  for  her,  and 
in  the  willingness  or  gentlemen,  like  Mr.  E.  E.  Allen  of  the 
Pennsylvania  Institute  for  the  Instruction  of  the  Blind,  to  print, 
as  he  has  on  several  occasions,  editions  of  books  that  she  has 
needed. 

Miss  Keller  does  not  as  a  rule  read  very  fast,  but  she  reads 
deliberately,  not  so  much  because  she  feels  the  words  less  quickly 


PERSONALITY  293 

than  we  see  them,  as  because  it  is  one  of  her  habits  of  mind  to  do 
things  thoroughly  and  well.  When  a  passage  interests  her,  or 
she  needs  to  remember  it  for  some  future  use,  she  flutters  it  off 
swiftly  on  the  fingers  of  her  right  hand.  Sometimes  this  finger- 
play  is  unconscious.  Miss  Keller  talks  to  herself  absent- 
mindedly  in  the  manual  alphabet.  When  she  is  walking  up  or 
down  the  hall  or  along  the  veranda,  her  hands  go  flying  along 
beside  her  like  a  confusion  of  birds,  wings. 

There  is,  I  am  told,  tactile  memory  as  well  as  visual  and  a.ural 
memory.  Miss  Sullivan  says  that  both  she  and  Miss  Keller 
remember  "in  their  fingers"  what  they  ha~ve  said.  For  Miss 
Keller  to  spell  a  sentence  in  the  manual  alphabet  impresses  it 
on  her  mind  just  as  we  learn  a  thing  from  having  heard  it  many 
times  and  can  call  back  the  memory  of  its  sound. 

Like  every  deaf  or  blind  person,  Miss  Keller  depends  on  her 
Sense  of  smell  to  an  unusual  degree.  When  she  was  a  little 
girl  she  smelled  everything  and  knew  where  she  was,  what 
neighbour's  house  she  was  passing,  by  the  distinctive  odours.  As 
her  intellect  grew  she  became  less  dependent  on  this  sense,  j 
To  what  extent  she  now  identifies  objects  by  their  odour  is  hard 
to  determine.  The  sense  of  smell  has  fallen  into  disrepute,  and  a 
deaf  person  is  reluctant  to  speak  of  it.  Miss  Keller's  acute  sense 
of  smell  may  account,  however,  in  some  part  for  that  recognition 
of  persons  and  things  which  it  has  been  customary  to  attribute 
to  a  special  sense,  or  to  an  unusual  development  of  the  power 
that  we  all  seem  to  have  of  telling  when  some  one  is  near. 

The  question  of  a  special  "sixth  sense,"  such  as  people  have 
ascribed  to  Miss  Keller,  is  a  delicate  one.  This  much  is  certain, 
she  cannot  have  any  sense  that  other  people  may  not  have,  and 
the  existence  of  a  special  sense  is  not  evident  to  her  or  to  any  one 
who  knows  her.  Miss  Keller  is  distinctly  not  a  singular  proof  of 
occult  and  mysterious  theories,  and  any  attempt  to  explain  her 
in  that  way  fails  to  reckon  with  her  normality.  She  is  no  more 
mysterious  and  complex  than  any  other  person.  All  that  she  is, 
all  that  she  has  done,  can  be  explained  directly,  except  such 
things  in  every  human  being  as  never  can  be  explained.  She 
does  not,  it  would  seem,  prove  the  existence  of  spirit  without 
matter,  or  of  innate  ideas,  or  of  immortality,  or  anything  else 
that  any  other  human  being  does  not  prove.  Philosophers  have 
tried  to  find  out  what  was  her  conception  of  abstract  ideas  before 
she  learned  language.  If  she  had  any  conception,  there  is  no 


294      A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 

way   of  discovering  it   now;  for   she   cannot   remember,   and 
obviously  there  was  no  record  at  the  time.     She  had  no  eoncep- 

Aion  of  God  before  she  heard  the  word  "  God,"  as  her  comments 
'very  clearly  show.* 

I     Her x sense  of  time  is  excellent,  but  whether  it  would  have 

I  developed  as  a  special  faculty  cannot  be  known,  for  she  has 

lhad  a  watch  since  she  was  seven  years  old. 

Miss  Keller  has  two  watches,  which  have  been  given  her.  They 
are,  I  think,  the  only  ones  of  their  kind  in  America.  The  watch 
has  on  the  back  cover  a  flat  gold  indicator  which  can  be  pushed 
freely  around  from  left  to  right  until,  by  means  of  a  pin  inside 
the  case,  it  locks  with  the  hour  hand  and  takes  a  corresponding 
position.  The  point  of  this  gold  indicator  bends  over  the  edge 
of  the  case,  round  which  are  set  eleven  raised  points — the  stem 
forms  the  twelfth.  Thus  the  watch,  an  ordinary  watch  with  a 
white  dial  for  the  person  who  sees,  becomes  for  a  blind  person 
by  this  special  attachment  in  effect  one  with  a  single  raised  houi 
hand  and  raised  figures.  Though  there  is  less  than  half  an  inch 
between  the  points — a  space  which  represents  sixty  minutes — • 
Miss  Keller  tells  the  time  almost  exactly.  It  should  be  said  that 
any  double-case  watch  with  the  crystal  removed  serves  well 
enough  for  a  blind  person  whose  touch  is  sufficiently  delicate 
to  feel  the  position  of  the  hands  and  not  disturb  or  injure  them. 

iThe  finer  traits  of  Miss  Keller's  character  are  so  well  known 
that  one  need  not  say  much  about  them.  Good  sense,  good 
humour,  and  imagination  keep  her  scheme  of  things  sane  and 
beautiful.  No  attempt  is  made  by  those  around  her  either  to 
preserve  or  to  break  her  illusions.  When  she  was  a  little  girl, 
a  good  many  unwise  and  tactless  things  that  were  said  for  he*1 
benefit  were  not  repeated  to  her,  thanks  to  the  wise  watchfulness 
of  Miss  Sullivan.  Now  that  she  has  grown  up,  nobody  thinks  of 
being  less  frank  with  her  than  with  any  other  intelligent  young 
woman.  What  her  good  friend,  Charles  Dudley  Warner, 
wrote  about  her  in  Harper's  Magazine  in  1896  was  true  then, 
and  it  remains  true  now : 

^  "I  believe  she  is  the  purest-minded  human  being  ever  in 
existence.  .  .  .  The  world  to  her  is  what  her  own  mind  is. 
She  has  not  even  learned  that  exhibition  on  which  so  many  pride 
themselves,  of  'righteous  indignation.' 

*3ee  pages  369  and  37* 


PERSONALITY  295 

"Some  time  ago,  when  a  policeman  shot  dead  her  dog,  a 
dearly  loved  daily  companion,  she  found  in  her  forgiving  heart 
no  condemnation  for  the  man;  she  only  said,  'If  he  had  only 
known  what  a  good  dog  she  was,  he  wouldn't  have  shot  her.'  It 
was  said  of  old  time,  'Lord  forgive  them,  they  know  not  what 
they  do  ! ' 

"Of  course  the  question  will  arise  whether,  if  Helen  Keller 
had  not  been  guarded  from  the  knowledge  of  evil,  she  would  have 
been  what  she  is  to-day.  .  .  .  Her  mind  has  neither  been 
made  effeminate  by  the  weak  and  silly  literature,  nor  has  it  been 
vitiated  by  that  which  is  suggestive  of  baseness.  In  consequence 
her  mind  is  not  only  vigorous,  but  it  is  pure.  She  is  in  love  with 
noble  things,  with  noble  thoughts,  and  with  the  characters  01 
noble  men  and  women." 

She  still  has  a  childlike  aversion  to  tragedies .  Her  imagination 
is  so  vital  that  she  fails  completely  under  the  illusion  of  a  story, 
and  lives  in  its  world.  Miss  Sullivan  writes  in  a  letter  of  1891: 

"Yesterday  I  read  to  her  the  story  of  'Macbeth,'  as  told  by 
Charles  and  Mary  Lamb.  She  was  very  greatly  excited  by  it, 
and  said :  '  It  is  terrible  !  It  makes  me  tremble  ! '  After  thinking 
a  little  while,  she  added,  'I  think  Shakespeare  made  it  very 
terrible  so  that  people  would  see  how  fearful  it  is  to  do  wrong. ' " 

Of  the  real  world  she  knows  more  of  the  good  and  less  of  the  evil 
than  most  people  seem  to  know.  Her  teacher  does  not  harass  her 
with  the  little  unhappy  things ;  but  of  the  important  difficulties 
they  have  been  through,  Miss  Keller  was  fully  informed,  took 
her  share  of  the  suffering,  and  put  her  mind  to  the  problems. 
She  is  logical  and  tolerant,  most  trustful  of  a  world  that  has 
treated  her  kindly. 

Once  when  some  one  asked  her  to  define  "love,"  she  replied, 
"Why,  bless  you,  that  is  easy;  it  is  what  everybody  feels  for 
everybody  else." 

'    -M Toleration,"  she  said  once,  when  she  was  visiting  her  friend 
Mrs.   Laurence  Hutton,   "is  the  greatest  gift  of  the  mind;  it  u 
requires  the  same  effort  of  the  brain  that  it  takes  to  balance 
oneself  on  a  bicycle."  p 

She  has  a  large,  generous  sympathy  and  absolute  fairness  of  j 
temper.     So  far  as  she  is  noticeably  different  from  other  people  j 
she  is  less  bound  by  convention.     She  has  the  courage  of  her  I 
metaphors  and  lets  them  take  her  skyward  when  we  poor  self- 
conscious  folk  would  think  them  rather  too  bookish  for  ordinary 


296      A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 

conversation.  She  always  says  exactly  what  she  thinks,  without 
iear  of  the  plain  truth;  yet  no  one  is  more  xactful  and  adroit  than 
she  in  turning  an  unpleasant  truth  so  that  it  will  do  the  least 
possible  hurt  to  the  teelings  of  others.  Not  all  the  attention  that 
has  been  paid  her  since  she  was  a  child  has  made  her  take  herself 
too  seriously.  Sometimes  she  gets  started  on  a  very  solemn 
preachment.  Then  her  teacher  calls  her  an  incorrigible  little 
sermonizer,  and  she  laughs  at  herself.  Often,  however,  her 
sober  ideas  are  not  to  be  laughed  at,  for  her  earnestness  carries 
her  listeners  with  her.  There  is  never  the  least  false  sententious- 
ness  in  what  she  says.  She  means  everything  so  thoroughly 
that  her  very  quotations,  her  echoes  from  what  she  has  read, 

^are  in  truth  original. 

ps  Her  logic  and  her  sympathy  are  in  excellent  balance.  Her 
sympathy  is  of  the  swift  and  ministering  sort  which,  fortu 
nately,  she  has  found  so  often  in  other  people.  And  her  sympa 
thies  go  further  and  shape  her  opinions  on  political  and  national 
movements.  She  was  intensely  pro-Boer  and  wrote  a  strong 
argument  in  favour  of  Boer  independence.  When  she  was  told 
of  the  surrender  of  the  brave  little  people,  her  face  clouded  and 
she  was  silent  a  few  minutes.  Then  she  asked  clear,  penetrat~ 
ing  questions  about  the  terms  of  the  surrender,  and  began 
to  discuss  them. 

Both  Mr.  Oilman  and  Mr.  Keith,  the  teachers  who  prepared 
her  for  college,  were  struck  by  her  power  of  constructive  reason 
ing;  and  she  was  excellent  in  pure  mathematics,  though  she 
seems  never  to  have  enjoyed  it  much.  Some  of  the  best  of  her 
writing,  apart  from  her  fanciful  and  imaginative  work,  is  her 
exposition  in  examinations  and  technical  themes,  and  in  some 
letters  which  she  found  it  necessary  to  write  to  clear  up  mis 
understandings,  and  which  are  models  of  close  thinking  enforced 
with  sweet  vehemence. 

She  is  an  optimist  and  an  idealist. 

"I  hope,"  she  writes  in  a  letter,  "that  L isn't  too  practical 

for  if  she  is,  I'm  afraid  she'll  miss  a  great  deal  of  pleasure." 

In  the  diary  that  she  kept  at  the  Wright-Humason  school 
in  New  York  she  wrote  on  October  18.  1894,  "I  find  that  I 

./have  four  things  to  learn  in  my  school  life  here,  and  indeed,  in 
life — to  think  clearly  without  hurry  or  confusion,  to  love  every 
body  sincerely,  to  act  in  everything  with  the  highest  motives, 
and  to  trust  in  dear  God  unhesitatingly." 


CHAPTER   III 

EDUCATION 

IT  is  now  sixty-five  years  since  Dr.  Samuel  Gridley  Howe 
knew  that  he  had  made  his  way  through  Laura  Bridgman's 
fingers  to  her  intelligence.  The  names  of  Laura  Bridgman  and 
Helen  Keller  will  always  be  linked  together,  and  it  is  necessary 
to  understand  what  Dr.  Howe  did  for  his  pupil  before  one 
comes  to  an  account  of  Miss  Sullivan's  work.  For  Dr. 
Howe  is  the  great  pioneer  on  whose  work  that  of  Miss  Sullivan 
and  other  teachers  of  the  deaf-blind  immediately  depends. 

Dr.  Samuel  Gridley  Howe  was  born  in  Boston,  November 
10,  1 80 1,  and  died  in  Boston,  January  9,  1876.  He  was  a  great 
philanthropist,  interested  especially  in  the  education  of  all 
defectives,  the  feeble-minded ,  the  blind,  and  the  deaf.  Far  in 
advance  of  his  time  he  advocated  many  public  measures  for  the 
relief  of  the  poor  and  the  diseased,  for  which  he  was  laughed 
at  then,  but  which  have  since  been  put  into  practice.  As  head 
of  the  Perkins  Institution  for  the  Blind  in  Boston,  he  heard 
of  Laura  Bridgman  and  had  her  brought  to  the  Institution  on 
October  4,  1837. 

Laura  Bridgman  was  born  at  Hanover,  New  Hampshire, 
December  21,  1829;  so  she  was  almost  eight  years  old  when 
Dr.  Howe  began  his  experiments  with  her.  At  the  age  of  twenty- 
six  months  scarlet  fever  left  her  without  sight  or  hearing.  She  also 
lost  her  sense  of  smell  and  taste.  Dr.  Howe  was  an  experi 
mental  scientist  and  had  in  him  the  spirit  of  New  England 
transcendentalism  with  its  large  faith  and  large  charities. 
Science  and  faith  together  led  him  to  try  to  make  his  way  into 
the  soul  which  he  believed  was  born  in  Laura  Bridgman  as 
in  every  other  human  being.  His  plan  was  to  teach  Laura  by 
means  of  raised  types.  He  pasted  raised  labels  on  objects  and 
made  her  fit  the  labels  to  the  objects  and  the  objects  to  the 
labels.  When  she  had  learned  in  this  way  to  associate  raised 
words  with  things,  in  much  the  same  manner,  he  says,  as  a  dog 

207 


298      A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 

learns  tricks,  he  began  to  resolve  the  words  into  their  lette* 
elements  and  to  teach  her  to  put  together  "k-e-y,"  "c-a-p."  His 
success  convinced  him  that  language  can  be  conveyed  through 
type  to  the  mind  of  the  blind-deaf  child,  who,  before  education, 
Jis  in  the  state  of  the  baby  who  has  not  learned  to  prattle;  indeed, 
is  in  a  much  worse  state,  for  the  brain  has  grown  in  years  without 
natural  nourishment. 

After  Laura's  education  had  progressed  for  two  months  with 
the  use  only  of  raised  letters,  Dr.  Howe  sent  one  of  his  teachers 
to  learn  the  manual  alphabet  from  a  deaf-mute.  She  taught  it 
to  Laura,  and  from  that  time  on  the  manual  alphabet  was  the 
means  of  communicating  with  her. 

After  the  first  year  or  two  Dr.  Howe  did  not  teach  Lausa 
Bridgman  himself,  but  gave  her  over  to  other  teachers,  who 
under  his  direction  carried  on  the  work  of  teaching  her  language.* 

Too  much  cannot  be  said  in  praise  of  Dr.  Howe's  work. 
As  an  investigator  he  kept  always  the  scientist's  attitude.  He 
never  forgot  to  keep  his  records  of  Laura  Bridgman  in  the  fashion 
of  one  who  works  in  a  laboratory.  The  result  is,  his  records 
of  her  are  systematic  and  careful.  From  a  scientific  stand 
point,  it  is  unfortunate  that  it  was  impossible  to  keep  such  a 
complete  record  of  Helen  Keller's  development.  This  in  itself 
is  a  great  comment  on  the  difference  between  Laura  Bridgman 
g,nd  Helen  Keller.  Laura  always  remained  an  object  of  curious 
study.  Helen  Keller  became  so  rapidly  a  distinctive  personality 
that  she  kept  her  teacher  in  a  breathless  race  to  meet  the  needs 
of  her  pupil,  with  no  time  or  strength  to  make  a  scientific  study. 

In  some  ways  this  is  unfortunate.  Miss  Sullivan  knew  at  the 
beginning  that  Helen  Keller  would  be  more  interesting  and  suc 
cessful  than  Laura  Bridgman,  and  she  expresses  in  one  of  her 
letters  the  need  of  keeping  notes.  But  neither  temperament  nor 
training  allowed  her  to  make  her  pupil  the  object  of  any  experi 
ment  or  observation  which  did  not  help  in  the  child's  development. 
As  soon  as  a  thing  was  done,  a  definite  goal  passed,  the  teacher 
did  not  always  look  back  and  describe  the  way  she  had  come. 
The  explanation  of  the  fact  was  unimportant  compared  to  the 
fact  itself  and  the  need  of  hurrying  on.  There  are  two  other 
reasons  why  Miss  Sullivan's  records  are  incomplete.  It  has 
always  been  a  severe  tax  on  her  eyes  to  write,  and  she  was  early 

*See  "The  Life  and  Education  of  Laura  Dewey  Bridgman,"  by  Mrs.  Maty 
Swift  Lamson. 


EDUCATION  299 

Discouraged  from  publishing  data  by  the  inaccurate  use  made 
of  what  she  at  first  supplied. 

When  she  first  wrote  from  Tuscumbia  to  Mr.  Michael  Anagnos, 
Dr.  Howe's  son-in-law  and  his  successor  as  Director  of  the 
Perkins  Institution,  about  her  work  with  her  pupil,  the  Boston 
papers  began  at  once  to  publish  exaggerated  accounts  of  Helen 
Keller.  Miss  Sullivan  protested.  In  a  letter  dated  April  10, 
1887,  only  five  weeks  after  she  went  to  Helen  Keller,  she  wrote 
to  a  friend: 

" sent  me  a  Boston  Herald  containing  a  stupid  article 

about  Helen.  How  perfectly  absurd  to  say  that  Helen  is 
'already  talking  fluently  !'  Why,  one  might  just  as  well  say  that 
a  two-year-old  child  converses  fluently  when  he  says  'apple 
give,'  or  'baby  walk  go.'  I  suppose  if  you  included  his  scream 
ing,  crowing,  whimpering,  grunting,  squalling,  with  occasional 
kicks,  in  his  conversation,  it  might  be  regarded  as  fluent — even 
eloquent.  Then  it  is  amusing  to  read  of  the  elaborate  prepara 
tion  I  underwent  to  fit  me  for  the  great  task  my  friends  entrusted 
to  me.  I  am  sorry  that  preparation  didn't  include  spelling,  it 
would  have  saved  me  such  a  lot  of  trouble." 

On  March  4,  1888,  she  writes  in  a  letter: 

"Indeed,  I  am  heartily  glad  that  I  don't  know  all  that  is 
being  said  and  written  about  Helen  and  myself.  I  assure  you 
I  know  quite  enough.  Nearly  every  mail  brings  some  absurd 
statement,  printed  or  written.  The  truth  is  not  wonderful 
enough  to  suit  the  newspapers;  so  they  enlarge  upon  it  and 
invent  ridiculous  embellishments.  One  paper  has  Helen  demon 
strating  problems  in  geometry  by  means  of  her  playing  blocks. 
I  expect  to  hear  next  that  she  has  written  a  treatise  on  the 
origin  and  future  of  the  planets  !" 

In  December,  1887,  appeared  the  first  report  of  the  Director 
of  the  Perkins  Institution,  which  deals  with  Helen  Keller.  For 
this  report  Miss  Sullivan  prepared,  in  reluctant  compliance  with 
the  request^of  Mr.  Anagnos,  an  account  of  her  work.  This  with  the 
extracts  from  her  letters,  scattered  through  the  report,  is  the 
first  valid  source  of  information  about  Helen  Keller.  Of  this 
report  Miss  Sullivan  wrote  in  a  letter  dated  October  30,  1887 : 

"Have  you  seen  the  paper  I  wrote  for  the  'report'  ?  Mr. 
Anagnos  was  delighted  with  it.  He  says  Helen's  progress  has 
been  'a  triumphal  march  from  the  beginning,'  and  he  has  many 
flattering  things  to  say  about  her  teacher.  I  think  he  is  inclined 


300      A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 

to  exaggerate;  at  all  events,  his  language  is  too  glowing,  and 
simple  facts  are  set  forth  in  such  a  manner  that  they  bewilder 
one.  Doubtless  the  work  of  the  past  few  months  does  seem 
like  a  triumphal  march  to  him;  but  then  people  seldom  see  the 
halting  and  painful  steps  by  which  the  most  insignificant  success 
is  achieved." 

As  Mr.  Anagnos  was  the  head  of  a  great  institution,  what  he 
said  had  much  more  effect  than  the  facts  in  Miss  Sullivan's 
account  on  which  he  based  his  statements.  The  newspapers 
caught  Mr.  Anagnos 's  spirit  and  exaggerated  a  hundred-fold. 
In  a  year  after  she  first  went  to  Helen  Keller,  Miss  Sullivan  found 
herself  and  her  pupil  the  centre  of  a  stupendous  fiction.  Then 
the  educators  all  over  the  world  said  their  say  and  for  the  most 
part  did  not  help  matters.  There  grew  up  a  mass  of  contro 
versial  matter  which  it  is  amusing  to  read  now.  Teachers  of 
the  deaf  proved  a  priori  that  what  Miss  Sullivan  had  done 
could  not  be,  and  some  discredit  was  reflected  on  her  statements, 
because  they  were  surrounded  by  the  vague  eloquence  of  Mr. 
Anagnos.  Thus  the  story  of  Helen  Keller,  incredible  when 
told  with  moderation,  had  the  misfortune  to  be  heralded  by 
exaggerated  announcements,  and  naturally  met  either  an 
ignorant  credulity  or  an  incredulous  hostility. 

In  November,  1888,  another  report  of  the  Perkins  Institution 
appeared  with  a  second  paper  by  Miss  Sullivan,  and  then 
nothing  official  was  published  until  November,  1891,  when  Mr. 
Anagnos  issued  the  last  Perkins  Institution  report  containing 
anything  about  Helen  Keller.  For  this  report  Miss  Sullivan 
wrote  the  fullest  and  largest  account  she  has  ever  written;  and 
in  this  report  appeared  the  "  Frost  King,"  which  is  discussed 
fully  in  a  later  chapter.  Then  the  controversy  waxed  fiercer 
than  ever. 

Finding  that  other  people  seemed  to  know  so  much  more 
about  Helen  Keller  than  she  did,  Miss  Sullivan  kept  silent  and 
has  been  silent  for  ten  years,  except  for  her  paper  in  the  first  Volta 
Bureau  Souvenir  of  Helen  Keller*  and  the  paper  which,  at  Dr. 
Bell's  request,  she  prepared  in  1894  for  the  meeting  at  Chau- 
tauqua  of  the  American  Association  to  Promote  the  Teaching  of 
Speech  to  the  Deaf.  When  Dr.  Bell  and  others  tell  her,  what 
is  certainly  true  from  an  impersonal  point  of  view,  that  she 
owes  it  to  the  cause  of  education  to  write  what  she  knows,  she 
page  396. 


EDUCATION  301 

answers  very  properly  that  she  owes  all  her  time  and  all  hef 
energies  to  her  pupil. 

Although  Miss  Sullivan  is  still  rather  amused  than  distressed 
when  some  one,  even  one  of  her  friends,  makes  mistakes  in  pub 
lished  articles  about  her  and  Miss  Keller,  still  she  sees  that 
Miss  Keller's  book  should  include  all  the  information  that  the 
teacher  could  at  present  furnish.  So  she  consented  to  the  publi 
cation  of  extracts  from  letters  which  she  wrote  during  the  first 
year  of  her  work  with  her  pupil.  These  letters  were  written  to 
Mrs.  Sophia  C.  Hopkins,  the  only  person  to  whom  Miss  Sullivan 
ever  wrote  freely.  Mrs,  Hopkins  has  been  a  matron  at  the 
Perkins  Institution  for  twenty  years,  and  during  the  time  that 
Miss  Sullivan  was  a  pupil  there  she  was  like  a  mother  to  her.  In 
these  letters  we  have  an  almost  weekly  record  of  Miss  Sullivan's 
work.  Some  of  the  details  she  had  forgotten,  as  she  grew  more 
and  more  to  generalize.  Many  people  have  thought  that  any 
attempt  to  find  the  principles  in  her  method  would  be  nothing 
but  a  later  theory  superimposed  on  Miss  Sullivan's  work.  But 
it  is  evident  that  in  these  letters  she  was  making  a  clear 
analysis  of  what  she  was  doing.  She  was  her  own  critic,  and  in 
spite  of  her  later  declaration,  made  with  her  modest  carelessness, 
that  she  followed  no  particular  method,  she  was  very  clearly 
learning  from  her  task  and  phrasing  at  the  time  principles  of 
education  of  unique  value  not  only  in  the  teaching  of  the  deaf 
but  in  the  teaching  of  all  children.  The  extracts  from  her  letters 
and  reports  form  an  important  contribution  to  pedagogy,  and 
more  than  justify  the  opinion  of  Dr.  Daniel  C.  Oilman,  who  wrote 
in  1893,  when  he  was  President  of  Johns  Hopkins  University: 

"I  have  just  read  .  .  .  your  most  interesting  account 
of  the  various  steps  you  have  taken  in  the  education  of  your 
wonderful  pupil,  and  I  hope  you  will  allow  me  to  express  my 
admiration  for  the  wisdom  that  has  guided  your  methods  and 
the  affection  which  has  inspired  your  labours." 


Miss  Anne  Mansfield  Sullivan  was  born  at  Springfield,  Massa 
chusetts.  Very  early  in  her  life  ske  became  almost  totally 
blind,  and  she  entered  the  Perkins  Institution  October  7,  1880, 
when  she  was  fourteen  years  old.  Later  her  sight  was  par 
tially  restored. 

Mr.  Anagnos  says  in  his  report  of  1887:     "She  was  obliged 


302       A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 

to  begin  her  education  at  the  lowest  and  most  elementary  point; 
but  she  showed  from  the  very  start  that  she  had  in  herself  the 
force  and  capacity  which  insure  success,  .  .  .  She  has 
finally  reached  the  goal  for  which  she  strove  so  bravely.  The 
golden  words  that  Dr.  Howe  uttered  and  the  example  that  he 
left  passed  into  her  thoughts  and  heart  and  helped  her  on  the 
road  to  usefulness ;  and  now  she  stands  by  his  side  as  his  worth}'' 
successor  in  one  of  the  most  cherished  branches  of  his  work. 

JL     .     «     Miss  Sullivan's  talents  are  of  the  highest  order." 

In  1886  she  graduated  from  the  Perkins  Institution.  When 
Captain  Keller  applied  to  the  director  for  a  teacher,  Mr.  Anagnos 
recommended  her.  The  only  time  she  had  to  prepare  herself  for 
the  work  with  her  pupil  was  from  August,  1886,  when  Captain 
Keller  wrote,  to  February,  1887.  During  this  time  she  read 
Dr.  Howe's  reports.  She  was  further  aided  by  the  fact  that 
during  the  six  years  of  her  school  life  she  had  lived  in  the  house 
with  Laura  Bridgman.  It  was  Dr.  Howe  who,  by  his  work 
with  Laura  Bridgman,  made  Miss  Sullivan's  work  possible: 

I  but  it  was    Miss   Sullivan   who  discovered  the  way  to  teach 

( language  to  the  deaf-blind. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  Miss  Sullivan  had  to  sol\»e  her 
problems  unaided  by  previous  experience  or  the  assistance  of  any 
other  teacher.  During  the  first  year  of  her  work  with  Helen 
Keller,  in  which  she  taught  her  pupil  language,  they  were  in 
Tuscumbia;  and  when  they  came  North  and  visited  the  Perkins 
Institution,  Helen  Keller  was  never  a  regular  student  there  ot 
subject  to  the  discipline  of  the  Institution.  The  impression  that 
Miss  Sullivan  educated  Helen  Keller  "under  the  direction,  of 
Mr.  Anagnos  "  is  erroneous.  In  the  three  years  during  which  at 
various  times  Miss  Keller  and  Miss  Sullivan  were  guests  of  the 
Perkins  Institution,  the  teachers  there  did  not  help  Miss  Sullivan, 
and  Mr.  Anagnos  did  not  even  use  the  manual  alphabet  with 
facility  as  a  means  of  communication  .  Mr.  Anagnos  wrote 
in  the  report  of  the  Perkins  Institution,  dated  November  27, 
1888:  "At  my  urgent  request,  Helen,  accompanied  by  her 
mother  and  her  teacher,  came  to  the  North  in  the  last  week  of 
May,  and  spent  several  months  with  us  as  our  guests.  .  .  . 
We  gladly  allowed  her  to  use  freely  our  library  of  embossed  books, 
our  collection  of  stuffed  animals,  sea-shells,  models  of  flowers 

.    and  plants,  and  the  rest  of  our  apparatus  for  instructing  the 

*    blind  through  the  sense  of  touch.     I  do  not  doubt  that  she  derived 


EDUCATION  303 

from  them  much  pleasure  and  not  a  little  profit.     But  whether 
Helen  stays  at  home  or  makes  visits  in  other  parts  of  the  country, 
her  education  is   always  under  the  immediate  direction  and 
exclusive    control    of    her    teacker.     No    one    interferes    with 
Miss  Sullivan's  plans,  or  shares  in  her  tasks.     She  has  been! 
allowed  entire  freedom  in  the  choice  of  means  and  methods  for! 
carrying  on  her  great  work;  and,  as  we  can  judge  by  the  results! 
she  has  made  a  most  judicious  and  discreet  use  of  this  privilegej 
What  the  little  pupil  has  thus  far  accomplished  is  widely  known^ 
and  her  wonderful  attainments  command  general  admiration 
but  only  those  who  are  familiar  with  the  particulars  of  the  granc 
achievement  know  that  the  credit  is  largely  due  to  the  intel 
ligence,     wisdom,     sagacity,     unremitting     perseverance     anc 
unbending  will  of  the  instructress,  who  rescued  the  child  from 
the  depths  of  everlasting  night  and  stillness,  and  watched  ove 
the  different  phases  of  her  mental  and  moral  development  with 
maternal  solicitude  and  enthusiastic  devotion." 

Here  follow  in  order  Miss  Sullivan's  letters  and  the  most 
important  passages  from  the  reports.  I  have  omitted  from  each 
succeeding  report  what  has  already  been  explained  and  does  not 
need  to  be  repeated.  For  the  ease  of  the  reader  I  have,  with 
Miss  Sullivan's  consent,  made  the  extracts  run  together  con^ 
tinuously  and  supplied  words  of  connection  and  the  resulting 
necessary  changes  in  syntax,  and  Miss  Sullivan  has  made  slight 
changes  in  the  phrasing  of  her  reports  and  also  of  her  letters, 
which  were  carelessly  written.  I  have  also  italicized  a  few 
important  passages.  Some  of  her  opinions  Miss  Sullivan  would 
like  to  enlarge  and  revise.  That  remains  for  her  to  do  at 
another  time.  At  present  we  have  here  the  fullest  record  that 
has  been  published.  The  first  letter  is  dated  March  6,  1887, 
three  days  after  her  arrival  in  Tuscumbia. 

.  .  .  It  was  6.30  when  I  reached  Tuscumbia.  I  found 
Mrs.  Keller  and  Mr.  James  Keller  waiting  for  me.  They  said 
somebody  had  met  every  train  for  two  days.  The  drive  from, 
the  station  to  the  house,  a  distance  of  one  mile,  was  very  lovely 
and  restful.  I  was  surprised  to  find  Mrs.  Keller  a  very  young- 
looking  woman,  not  much  older  than  myself,  I  should  think. 
Captain  Keller  met  us  in  the  yard  and  gave  me  a  cheery  welcome 
and  a  hearty  handshake.  My  first  question  was,  "Where is 
Helen?"  I  tried  with  all  my  might  to  control  the  eagerness 
that  made  me  tremble  so  that  I  could  hardly  walk.  As  W< 


3o4      A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 

approached  the  house  I  saw  a  child  standing  in  the  doorway, 
and  Captain  Keller  said,  "There  she  is.  She  has  known  all 
day  that  some  one  was  expected,  and  she  has  been  wild  ever 
since  her  mother  went  to  the  station  for  you."  I  had  scarcely 
put  my  foot  on  the  steps,  when  she  rushed  toward  me  with  such 
force  that  she  would  have  thrown  me  backward  if  Captain 
Keller  had  not  been  behind  me.  She  felt  my  face  and  dress  and 
my  bag,  which  she  took  out  of  my  hand  and  tried  to  open.  It 
did  not  open  easily,  and  she  felt  carefully  to  see  if  there  was  a  key 
hole.  Finding  that  there  was,  she  turned  to  me,  making  the  sign 
of  turning  a  key  and  pointing  to  the  bag.  Her  mother  inter 
fered  at  this  point  and  showed  Helen  by  signs  that  she  must  not 
touch  the  bag.  Her  face  flushed,  and  when  her  mother  attempted 
to  take  the  bag  from  her,  she  grew  very  angry.  I  attracted  her 
attention  by  showing  her  my  watch  and  letting  her  hold  it  in  her 
hand.  Instantly  the  tempest  subsided,  and  we  went  upstairs 
together.  Here  I  opened  the  bag,  and  she  went  through  it 
eagerly,  probably  expecting  to  find  something  to  eat.  Friends 
had  probably  brought  her  candy  in  their  bags,  and  she  expected 
to  find  some  in  mine.  I  made  her  understand,  by  pointing  to  a 
trunk  in  the  hall  and  to  myself  and  nodding  my  head,  that  1 
had  a  trunk,  and  then  made  the  sign  that  she  had  used  for  eat 
ing,  and  nodded  again.  She  understood  in  a  flash  and  ran  down 
stairs  to  tell  her  mother,  by  means  of  emphatic  signs,  that  there 
was  some  candy  in  a  trunk  for  her.  She  returned  in  a  few 
minutes  and  helped  me  put  away  my  things.  It  was  too  comical 
to  see  her  put  on  my  bonnet  and  cock  her  head  first  on  one  side, 
then  on  the  other,  and  look  in  the  mirror,  just  as  if  she  could  see. 
Somehow  I  had  expected  to  see  a  pale,  delicate  child — I  suppose 
I  got  the  idea  from  Dr.  Howe's  description  of  Laura  Bridgman 
when  she  came  to  the  Institution.  But  there's  nothing  pale  or 
delicate  about  Helen.  She  is  large,  strong,  and  ruddy,  and  as 
unrestrained  in  her  movements  as  a  young  colt.  She  has  none 
of  those  nervous  habits  that  are  so  noticeable  and  so  distressing 
in  blind  children.  Her  body  is  well  formed  and  vigorous,  and 
Mrs.  Keller  says  she  has  not  been  ill  a  day  since  the  illness  that 
deprived  her  of  her  sight  and  hearing.  She  has  a  fine  head, 
and  it  is  set  on  her  shoulders  just  right.  Her  face  is  hard  to 
describe.  It  is  intelligent,  but  lacks  mobility,  or  soul,  or  some 
thing.  Her  mouth  is  large  and  finely  shaped.  You  see  at  a 
glance  that  she  is  blind.  One  eye  is  larger  than  the  other,  and 


EDUCATION  305 

protrudes  noticeably.     She  rarely  smiles;  indeed,  I  have  seen'r 
her  smile  only  once  or  twice  since  I  came.     She  is  unresponsive  j 
and  even  impatient  of  caresses  from  any  one  except  her  mother,  i 
She  is  very  quick-tempered  and  wilful,  and  nobody,  except  herj 
brother  James,  has  attempted  to  control  her.     The  greatest! 
problem  I  shall  have  to  solve  is  how  to  discipline  and  control 
her  without  breaking  her  spirit.     I  shall  go  rather  slowly  at  first) 
and  try  to  win  her  love.     I  shall  not  attempt  to  conquer  her  by* 
force  alone;  but  I  shall  insaefc  on  reasonable  obedience  from  the' 
start.     One  thing  that  impresses  everybody  is  Helen's  tireless 
activity.     She  is  ne^r<?r  still  a  moment.     She  is  here,  there,  and 
everywhere.     Her  hands  are  in  everything;  but  aothing  holds  ^ 
her  attention  for  long.     Dear  child,  her  restless  spiiit  gropes  in 
the  dark.     Her  untaught,  unsatisfied  hands  destroy  whatever 
they  touch  because  they  do  not  know  what  else  to  do  with  ' 
things. 

She  helped  me  unpack  my  trunk  when  it  came,  and  waf 
delighted  when  she  found  the  doll  the  little  girls  sent  her.  I 
thought  it  a  good  opportunity  to  teach  her  her  first  word.  I 
spelled  "d-o-1-1"  slowly  in  her  hand  and  pointed  to  the  doll 
and  nodded  my  head,  which  seems  to  be  her  sign  for  possession. 
Whenever  anybody  gives  her  anything,  she  points  to  it,  then  to 
herself,  and  nods  her  head.  She  looked  puzzled  and  felt  my 
hand,  and  I  repeated  the  letters.  She  imitated  them  very  well 
and  pointed  to  the  doll.  Then  I  took  the  doll,  meaning  to  giv« 
it  back  to  her  when  she  had  made  the  letters;  but  she  thought 
I  meant  to  take  it  from  her,  and  in  an  instant  she  was  in  a 
temper,  and  tried  to  seize  the  doll.  I  shook  my  head  and  tried 
to  form  the  letters  with  her  fingers;  but  she  got  more  and  more 
angry.  I  forced  her  into  a  chair  and  held  her  there  until  I  was^ 
nearly  exhausted.  Then  it  occurred  to  me  that  it  was  useless  to 
continue  the  struggle — I  must  do  something  to  turn  the  current 
of  her  thoughts.  I  let  her  go,  but  refused  to  give  up  the  doll. 
I  went  downstairs  and  got  some  cake  (she  is  very  fond  of  sweets). 
I  showed  Helen  the  cake  and  spelled  "c-a-k-e"  in  her  hand, 
holding  the  cake  toward  her.  Of  course  she  wanted  it  and  tried 
to  take  it;  but  I  spelled  the  word  again  and  patted  her  hand. 
She  made  the  letters  rapidly,  and  I  gave  her  the  cake,  which  she 
ate  in  a  great  hurry,  thinking,  I  suppose,  that  I  might  take  it 
from  her.  Then  I  showed  her  the  doll  and  spelled  the  word 
again,  holding  the  doll  toward  her  as  I  held  the  cake.  She  made 


306      A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 

the  letters  "d-o-1"  and  I  made  the  other  "1"  and  gave  her  the 
doll.  She  ran  downstairs  with  it  and  could  not  be  induced  to 
return  to  my  room  all  day. 

Yesterday  1  gave  her  a  sewing-card  to  do.  I  made  the  first 
row  of  vertical  lines  and  let  her  feel  it  and  notice  that  there  were 
several  rows  of  little  holes.  She  began  to  work  delightedly  and 
finished  the  card  in  a  few  minutes,  and  did  it  very  neatly  indeed. 
I  thought  I  would  try  another  word;  so  I  spelled  "c-a-r-d" 
She  made  the  "c-a,"  then  stopped  and  thought,  and  making 
the  sign  for  eating  and  pointing  downward  she  pushed  me 
toward  the  door,  meaning  that  I  must  go  downstairs  for  some 
cake.  The  two  letters  "c-a,"  you  see,  had  reminded  her  of 
Friday's  "lesson" — not  that  she  had  any  idea  that  cake  was  the 
name  of  the  thing,  but  it  was  simply  a  matter  of  association,  I 
suppose.  I  finished  the  word  "c-a-k-e"  and  obeyed  her 
command.  She  was  delighted.  Then  I  spelled  "d-o-1-1" 
*ind  began  to  hunt  for  it.  Sha  follows  with  her  hands  every 
motion  you  make,  and  she  knew  that  I  was  looking  for  the  doll. 
She  pointed  down,  meaning  that  the  doll  was  downstairs.  I 
made  the  signs  that  she  had  used  when  she  wished  me  to  go 
for  the  cake,  and  pushed  her  toward  the  door.  She  started 
forward,  then  hesitated  a  moment,  evidently  debating  within 
herself  whether  she  would  go  or  not.  She  decided  to  send 
me  instead.  I  shook  my  head  and  spelled  "d-o-1-1"  more 
emphatically,  and  opened  the  door  for  her;  but  she  obstinately 
refused  to  obey.  She  had  not  finished  the  cake  she  was  eating, 
and  I  took  it  away,  indicating  that  if  she  brought  the  doll  I 
would  give  her  back  the  cake.  She  stood  perfectly  still  for  one 
long  moment,  her  face  crimson;  then  her  desire  for  the  cake 
triumphed,  and  she  ran  downstairs  and  brought  the  doll,  and  of 
course  I  gave  her  the  cake,  but  could  not  persuade  her  to  enter 
the  room  again. 

She  was  very  troublesome  when  I  began  to  write  this  morning. 
She  kept  coming  up  behind  me  and  putting  her  hand  on  the  paper 
and  into  the  ink-bottle.  These  blots  are  her  handiwork.  Finally 
I  remembered  the  kindergarten  beads,  and  set  her  to  work 
stringing  them.  First  I  put  on  two  wooden  beads  and  one  glass 
bead,  then  made  her  feel  of  the  string  and  the  two  boxes  of  beads. 
She  nodded  and  began  at  once  to  fill  the  string  with  wooden 
beads.  I  shook  my  head  and  took  th  em  all  off  and  made  her  feel 
it  the  two  wooden  beads  and  the  one  glass  bead.  She  examined 


EDUCATION  307 

them  thoughtfully  and  began  again.  This  time  she  put  on  the 
glass  bead  first  and  the  two  wooden  ones  next.  I  took  them  oft 
and  showed  her  that  the  two  wooden  ones  must  go  on  first,  then 
the  glass  bead.  She  had  no  further  trouble  and  filled  the  string 
quickly,  too  quickly,  in  fact.  She  tied  the  ends  together  when 
she  had  finished  the  string,  and  put  the  beads  round  her  neck. 
I  did  not  make  the  knot  large  enough  in  the  next  string,  and  the 
beads  came  off  as  fast  as  she  put  them  on;  but  she  solved  the 
difficulty  herself  by  putting  the  string  through  a  bead  and  tying 
it.  I  thought  this  very  clever.  She  amused  herself  with  the 
beads  until  dinner-time,  bringing  the  strings  to  me  now  and  then 
for  my  approval. 

My  eyes  are  very  much  inflamed.  I  know  this  letter  is 
very  carelessly  written.  I  had  a  lot  to  say,  and  couldn't  stop 
to  think  how  to  express  things  neatly.  Please  do  not  show  my 
letter  to  any  one.  If  you  want  to,  you  may  read  it  to  my 
friends. 

MONDAY  P.  M. 

I  had  a  battle  royal  with  Helen  this  morning.  Although  I 
try  very  hard  not  to  force  issues,  I  find  it  very  difficult  to  avoid 
them. 

Helen's  table  manners  are  appalling.  She  puts  her  hands  in 
our  plates  and  helps  herself,  and  when  the  dishes  are  passed, 
she  grabs  them  and  takes  out  whatever  she  wants.  This  morning 
I  would  not  let  her  put  her  hand  in  my  plate.  She  persisted, 
and  a  contest  of  wills  followed.  Naturally  the  family  was  much 
disturbed,  and  left  the  room.  I  locked  the  dining-room  door, 
and  proceeded  to  eat  my  breakfast,  though  the  food  almost 
choked  me.  Helen  was  lying  on  the  floor,  kicking  and  scream- 1 
ing  and  trying  to  pull  my  chair  from  under  me.  She  kept  this  I 
up  for  half  an  hour,  then  she  got  up  to  see  what  I  was  doing.  I 
let  her  see  that  I  was  eating,  but  did  not  let  her  put  her  hand 
in  the  plate.  She  pinched  me,  and  I  slapped  her  every  time 
she  did  it.  Then  she  went  all  round  the  table  to  see  who  was 
there,  and  finding  no  one  but  me,  she  seemed  bewildered.  After 
a  few  minutes  she  came  back  to  her  place  and  began  to  eat  her 
breakfast  with  her  fingers.  I  gave  her  a  spoon,  which  she  threw 
on  the  floor.  I  forced  her  out  of  the  chair  and  made  her  pick 
it  up.  Finally  I  succeeded  in  getting  her  back  in  her  chair  again, 
and  held  the  spoon  in  her  hand,  compelling  her  to  take  up  the 
food  with  it  and  put  it  in  her  mouth.  In  a  few  minutes  she 


3o8      A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 

yielded  and  finished  her  breakfast  peaceably.  Then  we  had 
another  tussle  over  folding  her  napkin.  When  she  had  finished, 
she  threw  it  on  the  floor  and  ran  toward  the  door.  Finding  it 
locked,  she  began  to  kick  and  scream  all  over  again.  It  was. 
another  hour  before  I  succeeded  in  getting  her  napkin  folded. 
Then  I  let  her  out  into  the  warm  sunshine  and  went  up  to  my 
room  and  threw  myself  on  the  bed  exhausted.  I  had  a  good 
cry  and  felt  better.  I  suppose  I  shall  have  many  such  battles 
with  the  little  woman  before  she  learns  the  only  two  essential 
things  I  can  teach  her,  obedience  and  love. 

Good-by,  dear.  Don't  worry;  I'll  do  my  best  and  leave  the 
rest  to  whatever  power  manages  that  which  we  cannot.  I  like 
Mrs.  Keller  very  much. 


TUSCUMBIA,  ALABAMA,  March  n,  1887. 

Since  I  wrote  you,  Helen  and  I  have  gone  to  live  all  by  our 
selves  in  a  little  garden-house  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from 
her  home,  only  a  short  distance  from  Ivy  Green,  the  Keller 
homestead.  I  very  soon  made  up  my  mind  that  I  could  do 
nothing  with  Helen  in  the  midst  of  the  family,  who  have  always 
allowed  her  to  do  exactly  as  she  pleased.  She  has  tyrannized 
over  everybody,  her  mother,  her  father,  the  servants,  the  little 
darkies  who  play  with  her,  and  nobody  had  ever  seriously 
disputed  her  will,  except  occasionally  her  brother  James,  until  I 
came;  and  like  all  tyrants  she  holds  tenaciously  to  her  divine 
right  to  do  as  she  pleases.  If  she  ever  failed  to  get  what  she 
wanted,  it  was  because  of  her  inability  to  make  the  vassals  of 
her  household  understand  what  it  was.  Every  thwarted  desire 
was  the  signal  for  a  passionate  outburst,  and  as  she  grew  older 
and  stronger,  these  tempests  became  more  violent.  As  I  began 
to  teach  her,  I  was  beset  by  many  difficulties.  She  wouldnst 
yield  a  point  without  contesting  it  to  the  bitter  end.  I  couldn't 
coax  her  or  compromise  with  her.  To  get  her  to  do  the  simplest 
thing,  such  as  combing  her  hair  or  washing  her  hands  or  button 
ing  her  boots,  it  was  necessary  to  use  force,  and,  of  course,  a  dis 
tressing  scene  followed.  The  family  naturally  felt  inclined  to 
interfere,  especially  her  father,  who  cannot  bear  to  see  her  cry. 
So  they  were  all  willing  to  give  in  for  the  sake  of  peace.  Besides,, 
her  past  experiences  and  associations  were  all  against  me.  1 
saw  clearly  that  it  was  useless  to  try  to  teach  her 


EDUCATION  309 

i  or  anything  else  until  she  learned  to  obey  me.  I  have  thought 
about  it  a  great  deal,  and  the  more  I  think,  the  more  certain 
I  am  that  obedience  is  the  gateway  through  which  knowledge, 
yes,  and  love,  too,  enter  the  mind  of  the  child.  As  I  wrotcr 
you,  I  meant  to  go  slowly  at  first.  I  had  an  idea  that  I  could 
win  the  love  and  confidence  of  my  little  pupil  by  the  same 
means  that  I  should  use  if  she  could  see  and  hear.  But  I  soon 
found  that  I  was  cut  off  from  all  the  usual  approaches  to  the 

-child's  heart.  She  accepted  everything  I  did  for  her  as  a  mattei 
of  course,  and  refused  to  be  caressed,  and  there  was  noway  oi 
appealing  to  her  affection  or  sympathy  or  childish  love  of  appro 
bation.  She  would  or  she  wouldn't,  and  there  was  an  end  of  it. 
Thus  it  is,  we  study,  plan  and  prepare  ourselves  for  a  task,  and 
when  the  hour  for  action  arrives,  we  find  that  the  system  we  have 
followed  with  such  labour  and  pride  does  not  fit  the  occasion; 
and  then  there's  nothing  for  us  to  do  but  rely  on  something 
within  us,  some  innate  capacity  for  knowing  and  doing,  which 
we  did  not  know  we  possessed  until  the  hour  of  our  great  need 
brought  it  to  light. 

I  had  a  good,  frank  talk  with  Mrs.  Keller,  and  explained 
to  her  how  difficult  it  was  going  to  be  to  do  anything  with 
Helen  under  the  existing  circumstances.  I  told  her  that  in 
my  opinion  the  child  ought  to  be  separated  from  the  family  for  a 
few  weeks  at  least — that  she  must  learn  to  depend  on  and  obey 
me  before  I  could  make  any  headway.  After  a  long  time  Mrs. 
Keller  said  that  she  would  think  the  matter  over  and  see  what 
Captain  Keller  thought  of  sending  Helen  away  with  me.  Captain 
Keller  fell  in  with  the  scheme  most  readily  and  suggested 
that  the  little  garden-house  at  the  "old  place"  be  got  ready 
for  us.  He  said  that  Helen  might  recognize  the  place,  as 
she  had  often  been  there;  but  she  would  have  no  idea  of  her 
surroundings,  and  they  could  come  every  day  to  see  that  all 
was  going  well,  with  the  understanding,  of  course,  that  she 
was  to  know  nothing  of  their  visits.  I  hurried  the  preparations 
for  our  departure  as  much  as  possible,  and  here  we  are. 

The  little  house  is  a  genuine  bit  of  paradise.  It  consists  of 
one  large  square  room  with  a  great  fireplace,  a  spacious  bay- 
window,  and  a  small  room  where  our  servant,  a  little  negro 
boy,  sleeps.  There  is  a  piazza,  in  front,  covered  with  vines 
that  grow  so  luxuriantly  that  you  have  to  part  them  to  see  the 
garden  beyond.  Our  meals  are  brought  from  the  house,  and 


3io      A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 

we  usually  eat  on  the  piazza.  The  little  negro  boy  takes  care 
of  the  fire  when  we  need  one ;  so  I  can  give  my  whole  attention 
to  Helen. 

She  was  greatly  excited  at  first,  and  kicked  and  screamed 
herself  into  a  sort  of  stupor;  but  when  supper  was  brought 
she  ate  heartily  and  seemed  brighter,  although  she  refused  to 
let  me  touch  her.  She  devoted  herself  to  her  dolls  the  first 
evening,  and  when  it  was  bedtime  she  undressed  very  quietly; 
but  when  she  felt  me  get  into  bed  with  her,  she  jumped  out  on 
the  other  side,  and  nothing  that  I  could  do  would  induce  her 
to  get  in  again.  But  I  was  afraid  she  would  take  cold,  and  I 
insisted  that  she  must  go  to  bed.  We  had  a  terrific  tussle,  I 
can  tell  you.  The  struggle  lasted  for  nearly  two  hours.  I  never 
saw  such  strength  and  endurance  in  a  child.  But  fortunately 
for  us  both,  I  am  a  little  stronger,  and  quite  as  obstinate  when 
I  set  out.  I  finally  succeeded  in  getting  her  on  the  bed  and 
covered  her  up,  and  she  lay  curled  up  as  near  the  edge  of  the 
bed  as  possible. 

The  next  morning  she  was  very  docile,  but  evidently  homesick. 
She  kept  going  to  the  door,  as  if  she  expected  some  one,  and 
every  now  and  then  she  would  touch  her  cheek,  which  is  her 
sign  for  her  mother,  and  shake  her  head  sadly.  She  played 
with  her  dolls  more  than  usual,  and  would  have  nothing  to  do 
with  me.  It  is  amusing  and  pathetic  to  see  Helen  with  her 
dolls.  I  don't  think  she  has  any  special  tenderness  for  them — • 
I  have  never  seen  her  caress  them;  but  she  dresses  and  undresses 
them  many  times  during  the  day  and  handles  them  exactly 
as  she  has  seen  her  mother  and  the  nurse  handle  her  baby 
sister. 

This  morning  Nancy,  her  favourite  doll,  seemed  to  have 
some  difficulty  about  swallowing  the  milk  that  was  being  admin 
istered  to  her  in  large  spoonfuls;  for  Helen  suddenly  put  down 
the  cup  and  began  to  slap  her  on  the  back  and  turn  her  over 
on  her  knees,  trotting  her  gently  and  patting  her  softly  all  the 
time.  This  lasted  for  several  minutes;  then  this  mood  passed, 
and  Nancy  was  thrown  ruthlessly  on  the  floor  and  pushed  to 
one  side,  while  a  large,  pink-cheeked,  fuzzy-haired  member  of 
the  family  received  the  little  mother's  undivided  attention. 

Helen  knows  several  words  now,  but  has  no  idea  how  to  use 
them,  or  that  everything  has  a  name.  I  think,  however,  she 
will  learn  auicklv  enough  by  and  by.  As  I  have  said  before. 


EDUCATION  311 

she  is  wonderfully  bright  and  active  and  as  quick  as  lightning 
in  her  movements. 


March  13,  1887. 

You  will  be  glad  to  hear  that  my  experiment  is  working  out 
finely.  I  have  not  had  any  trouble  at  all  with  Helen,  either, 
yesterday  or  to-day.  She  has  learned  three  new  words,  and 
when  I  give  her  the  objects,  the  names  of  which  she  has  learned, 
she  spells  them  unhesitatingly;  but  she  seems  glad  when  the 
lesson  is  over. 

We  had  a  good  frolic  this  morning  out  in  the  garden.  Helen 
evidently  knew  where  she  was  as  soon  as  she  touched  the  box 
wood  hedges,  and  made  many  signs  which  I  did  not  understand. 
No  doubt  they  were  signs  for  the  different  members  of  the 
family  at  Ivy  Green. 

I  have  just  heard  something  that  surprised  me  very  much. 
It  seems  that  Mr.  Anagnos  had  heard  of  Helen  before  he  received 
Captain  Keller's  letter  last  summer.  Mr.  Wilson,  a  teacher 
at  Florence,  and  a  friend  of  the  Kellers',  studied  at  Harvard 
the  summer  before  and  went  to  the  Perkins  Institution  to 
learn  if  anything  could  be  done  for  his  friend's  child.  He  saw 
a  gentleman  whom  he  presumed  to  be  the  director,  and  told 
him  about  Helen.  He  says  the  gentleman  was  not  particularly 
interested,  but  said  he  would  see  if  anything  could  be  done. 
Doesn't  it  seem  strange  that  Mr.  Anagnos  never  referred  to 
this  interview  ? 


March  20,  1887. 

My  heart  is  singing  for  joy  this  morning.  A  miracle  has 
happened  !  The  light  of  understanding  has  shone  upon  my  little 
pupil's  mind,  and  behold,  all  things  are  changed  ! 

The  wild  little  creature  of  two  weeks  ago  has  been  transformed 
into  a  gentle  child.  She  is  sitting  by  me  as  I  write,  her  face 
serene  and  happy,  crocheting  a  long  red  chain  of  Scotch  wool. 
She  learned  the  stitch  this  week,  and  is  very  proud  of  the  achieve 
ment.  When  she  succeeded  in  making  a  chain  that  would 
reach  across  the  room,  she  patted  herself  on  the  arm  and  put 
the  first  work  of  her  hands  lovingly  against  her  cheek.  She  lets 
me  kiss  her  now*  and  when  she  is  in  a  particularly  gentle  mood* 


A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 

she  will  sit  in  my  lap  for  a  minute  or  two;  but  she  does  not 
return  my  caresses.  The  great  step — the  step  that  counts — 
has  been  taken.  The  little  savage  has  learned  her  first  lesson 
in  ooedience,  and  finds  the  yoke  easy.  It  now  remains  my 
pleasant  task  to  direct  and  mould  the  beautiful  intelligence 
that  is  beginning  to  stir  in  the  child-soul.  Already  people 
remark  the  change  in  Helen.  Her  father  looks  in  at  us  morning 
and  evening  as  he  goes  to  and  from  his  office,  and  sees  her 
contentedly  stringing  her  beads  or  making  horizontal  lines  on 
her  sewing-card,  and  exclaims,  "How  quiet  she  is!"  When  I 
came,  her  movements  were  so  insistent  that  one  always  felt 
there  was  something  unnatural  and  almost  weird  about  her. 
I  have  noticed  also  that  she  eats  much  less,  a  fact  which  troubles 
her  father  so  much  that  he  is  anxious  to  get  her  home.  He 
says  she  is  homesick.  I  don't  agree  with  him;  but  I  suppose 
we  shall  have  to  leave  our  little  bower  very  soon. 

Helen  has  learned  several  nouns  this  week.  "M-u-g"  and 
"m-i-l-k,"  have  given  her  more  trouble  than  other  words. 
When  she  spells  "milk,"  she  points  to  the  mug,  and  when  she 
spells  "mug,"  she  makes  the  sign  for  pouring  or  drinking,  which 
shows  that  she  has  confused  the  words.  She  has  no  idea  yet 
that  everything  has  a  name. 

Yesterday  I  had  the  little  negro  boy  come  in  when  Helen 
was  having  her  lesson,  and  learn  the  letters,  too.  This  pleased  her 
very  much  and  stimulated  her  ambition  to  excel  Percy.  She 
was  delighted  if  he  made  a  mistake,  and  made  him  form  the 
letter  over  several  times.  When  he  succeeded  in  forming  it  to 
suit  her,  she  patted  him  on  his  woolly  head  so  vigorously 
that  I  thought  some  of  his  slips  were  intentional. 

One  day  this  week  Captain  Keller  brought  Belle,  a  setter  of 
which  he  is  very  proud,  to  see  us.  He  wondered  if  Helen  would 
recognize  her  old  playmate.  Helen  was  giving  Nancy  a  bath, 
and  didn't  notice  the  dog  at  first.  She  ustially  feels  the  softest 
step  and  throws  out  her  arms  to  ascertain  if  any  one  is  near 
her.  Belle  didn't  seem  very  anxious  to  attract  her  attention. 
I  imagine  she  has  been  rather  roughly  handled  sometimes  by 
her  little  mistress.  The  dog  hadn't  been  in  the  room  more 
than  half  a  minute,  however,  before  Helen  began  to  sniff,  and 
dumped  the  doll  into  the  wash-bowl  and  felt  about  the  room. 
She  stumbled  upon  Belle,  who  was  crouching  near  the  window 
where  Captain  JCeller  was  standing.  It  WRS  evident  that  she 


EDUCATION  313 

recognized  the  dog;  for  she  put  her  arms  round  her  neck  and  ] 
squeezed  her.  Then  Helen  sat  down  by  her  and  began  to  manip-  i 
ulate  her  claws.  We  couldn't  think  for  a  second  what  she  was  I 
doing;  but  when  we  saw  her  make  the  letters  "d-o-1-1  "  on  her/ 
-own  fingers,  we  knew  that  she  was  trying  to  teach  Belle  to! 
spell. 


March  28,  1887. 

Helen  and  I  came  home  yesterday.  I  am  sorry  they  wouldn't 
let  us  stay  another  week;  but  I  think  I  have  made  the  most 
I  could  of  the  opportunities  that  were  mine  the  past  two  weeks, 
and  I  don't  expect  that  I  shall  have  any  serious  trouble  with 
Helen  in  the  future.  The  back  of  the  greatest  obstacle  in  the 
path  of  progress  is  broken.  I  think  "no"  and  "yes,"  conveyed 
by  a  shake  or  a  nod  of  my  head,  have  become  facts  as  apparent 
to  her  as  hot  and  cold  or  as  th«  difference  between  pain  and 
pleasure.  And  I  don't  intend  that  the  lesson  she  has  learned 
at  the  cost  of  so  much  pain  and  trouble  shall  be  unlearned. 
I  shall  stand  between  her  and  the  over-indulgence  of  her  parents. 
I  have  told  Captain  and  Mrs.  Keller  that  they  must  not  inter- 
i3re  with  me  in  any  way.  I  have  done  my  best  to  make  them 
see  the  terrible  injustice  to  Helen  of  allowing  her  to  have  her 
way  in  everything,  and  I  have  pointed  out  that  the  processes  of 
teaching  the  child  that  everything  cannot  be  as  he  wills  it,  are 
apt  to  be  painful  both  to  him  and  to  his  teacher.  They  have 
promised  to  let  me  have  a  free  hand  and  help  me  as  much  as 
possible.  The  improvement  they  cannot  help  seeing  in  their 
child  has  given  them  more  confidence  in  me.  Of  course,  it 
is  hard  for  them.  I  realize  that  it  hurts  to  see  their  afflicted 
little  child  punished  and  made  to  do  things  against  her  will. 
Only  a  few  hours  after  my  talk  with  Captain  and  Mrs.  Keller 
(and  they  had  agreed  to  everything) ,  Helen  took  a  notion  that 
she  wouldn't  use  her  napkin  at  table.  I  think  she  wanted 
to  see  what  would  happen.  I  attempted  several  times  to  put 
the  napkin  round  her  neck;  but  each  time  she  tore  it  off  and 
threw  it  on  the  floor  and  finally  began  to  kick  the  table.  I  took 
her  plate  away  and  started  to  take  her  out  of  the  room.  Her 
father  objected  and  said  that  no  child  of  his  should  be  deprived 
of  his  food  on  any  account. 

Helen  didn't  come  up  to  my  room  after  supper,  and  I  didn't 


3i4      A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 

Bee  her  again  until  breakfast-time.  She  was  at  her  place  when 
I  came  down.  She  had  put  the  napkin  under  her  chin,  instead 
of  pinning  it  at  the  back,  as  was  her  custom.  She  called  my 
attention  to  the  new  arrangement,  and  when  I  did  not  object 
she  seemed  pleased  and  patted  herself.  When  she  left  the 
dining-room,  she  took  my  hand  and  patted  it.  I  wondered  if 
she  was  trying  to  "make  up."  I  thought  I  would  try  the  effect 
of  a  little  belated  discipline.  I  went  back  to  the  dining-room 
and  got  a  napkin.  When  Helen  came  upstairs  for  her  lesson, 
I  arranged  the  objects  on  the  table  as  usual,  except  that  the 
cake,  which  I  always  give  her  in  bits  as  a  reward  when  she 
spells  a  word  quickly  and  correctly,  was  not  there.  She  noticed 
this  at  once  and  made  the  sign  for  it.  I  showed  her  the  napkin 
and  pinned  it  round  her  neck,  then  tore  it  off  and  threw  it  on 
the  floor  and  shock  my  head.  I  repeated  this  performance 
several  times.  I  think  she  understood  perfectly  well;  for  she 
slapped  her  hand  two  or  three  times  and  shook  her  head.  We 
began  the  lesson  as  usual.  I  gave  her  an  object,  and  she  spelled 
the  name  (she  knows  twelve  now) .  After  spelling  half  the  words, 
she  stopped  suddenly,  as  if  a  thought  had  flashed  into  her 
mind,  and  felt  for  the  napkin.  She  pinned  it  round  her  neck 
and  made  the  sign  for  cake  (it  didn't  occur  to  her  to  spell  the 
word,  you  see).  I  took  this  for  a  promise  that  if  I  gave  her 
some  cake  she  would  be  a  good  girl.  1  gave  her  a  larger  piece 
than  usual,  and  she  chuckled  and  patted  herself. 


April  3,  1887. 

We  almost  live  in  the  garden,  where  everything  is  growing  and 
blooming  and  glowing.  After  breakfast  we  go  out  and  watch 
the  men  at  work.  Helen  loves  to  dig  and  play  in  the  dirt  like 
any  other  child.  This  morning  she  planted  her  doll  and  showed 
me  that  she  expected  her  to  grow  as  tall  as  I.  You  must  see 
that  she  is  very  bright,  but  you  have  no  idea  how  cunning  she  is. 

At  ten  we  come  in  and  string  beads  for  a  few  minutes.  She 
can  make  a  groat  many  combinations  now,  and  often  invents 
new  ones  herself.  Then  I  let  her  decide  whether  she  will  sew 
or  knit  or  crochet.  She  learned  to  knit  very  quickly,  and  is 
making  a  wash-cloth  for  her  mother.  Last  week  she  made  hef 
doll  an  apron,  and  it  was  done  as  well  as  any  child  of  her  age 
3oukl  do  it.  But  I  am  always  glad  when  this  work  is  over  foJ 


EDUCATION  315 

the  day.  Sewing  and  crocheting  are  inventions  of  the  devil,  I 
think.  I'd  rather  break  stones  on  the  king's  highway  than  hem 
a  handkerchief.  At  eleven  we  have  gymnastics.  She  knows 
all  the  free-hand  movements  and  the  "Anvil  Chorus"  with  the 
dumb-bells.  Her  father  says  he  is  going  to  fit  up  a  gymnasium 
for  her  in  the  pump-house;  but  we  both  like  a  good  romp  better 
than  set  exercises.  The  hour  from  twelve  to  one  is  devoted  to 
the  learning  of  new  words.  But  you  mustn't  think  this  is  the  only 
time  I  spell  to  Helen,  for  I  spell  in  her  hand  everything  we  do  all 
day  long,  although  she  has  no  idea  as  yet  what  the  spelling  means. 
After  dinner  I  rest  for  an  hour,  and  Helen  plays  with  her  dolls 
or  frolics  in  the  yard  with  the  little  darkies,  who  were  her 
constant  companions  before  I  came.  Later  I  join  them,  and 
we  make  the  rounds  of  the  outhouses.  We  visit  the  horses  and 
mules  in  their  stalls  and  hunt  for  eggs  and  feed  the  turkeys. 
Often,  when  the  weather  is  fine,  we  drive  from  four  to  six,  or  go 
to  see  her  aunt  at  Ivy  Green  or  her  cousins  in  the  town.  Helen's 
instincts  are  decidedly  social;  she  likes  to  have  people  about  her 
and  to  visit  her  friends,  partly,  I  think,  because  they  always  have 
things  she  likes  to  eat.  After  supper  we  go  to  my  room  and  do 
all  sorts  of  things  until  eight,  when  I  undress  the  little  woman 
and  put  her  to  bed.  She  sleeps  with  me  now.  Mrs.  Keller 
wanted  to  get  a  nurse  for  her;  but  I  concluded  I'd  rather  be  her 
nurse  than  look  after  a  stupid,  lazy  negress.  Besides,  I  like 
to  have  Helen  depend  on  me  for  everything,  and  I  find  it  muck 
easier  to  teach  her  things  at  odd  moments  than  at  set  times. 

On  March  3ist  I  found  that  Helen  knew  eighteen  nouns 
and  three  verbs.  Here  is  a  list  of  the  words.  Those  with  a 
cross  after  them  are  words  she  asked  for  herself:  Doll,  mug, 
pin,  key,  dog,  hat,  cup,  box,  water,  milk,  candy,  eye  (x},  finger  (x)9 
toe  (x),  head  (x),  cake,  baby,  mother,  sit,  stand,  walk.  On  April 
ist  she  learned  the  nouns  knife,  fork,  spoon,  saucer,  tea,  papa, 
bed,  and  the  verb  run. 

April  5,  1887. 

I  must  write  you  a  line  this  morning  because  something  very 
important  has  happened.  Helen  has  taken  the  second  great 
step  in  her  education.  She  has  learned  that  everything  has  a 
name,  and  that  the  manual  alphabet  is  the  key  to  everything  she 
wants  to  know. 


316      A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 

Jn  a  previous  letter  I  think  I  wrote  you  that  "mug"  and  "milk" 
had  given  Helen  more  trouble  than  all  the  rest.  She  confused 
the  nouns  with  the  verb  "drink."  She  didn't  know  the  word 
for  "  drink,"  but  went  through  the  pantomime  of  drinking  when 
ever  she  spelled  "mug"  or  "milk."  This  morning,  while  she 
was  washing,  she  wanted  to  know  the  name  for  "water." 
When  she  wants  to  know  the  name  of  anything,  she  points  to 
it  and  pats  my  hand.  I  spelled ' '  w-a-t-e-r  "and  thought  no  more 
about  it  until  after  breakfast.  Then  it  occurred  to  me  that  with 
the  help  of  this  new  word  I  might  succeed  in  straightening  out; 
the  "mug-milk"  difficulty.  We  went  out  to  the  pump-house, 
and  I  made  Helen  hold  her  mug  under  the  spout  while  I  pumped. 
As  the  cold  water  gushed  forth,  filling  the  mug,  I  spelled 
*' w-a-t-e-r"  in  Helen's  free  hand.  The  word  coming  so  close 
upon  the  sensation  of  cold  water  rushing  over  her  hand 
seemed  to  startle  her.  She  dropped  the  mug  and  stood  as  one 
transfixed.  A  new  light  came  into  her  face.  She  spelled 
"water"  several  times.  Then  she  dropped  on  the  ground  and 
asked  for  its  name  and  pointed  to  the  pump  and  the  trellis, 
and  suddenly  turning  round  she  asked  for  my  name.  I  spelled 
"Teacher."  Just  then  the  nurse  brought  Helen's  little  sister 
into  the  pump-house,  and  Helen  spelled  "baby"  and.  pointed 
to  the  nurse.  All  the  way  back  to  the  house  she  was  highly 
excited,  and  learned  the  name  of  every  object  she  touched,  so. 
that  in  a  few  hours  she  had  added  thirty  new  words  to  her 
vocabulary.  Here  are  some  of  them:  Door,  open,  shut,  give. 
go,  come,  and  a  great  many  more. 

P.  S. — I  didn't  finish  my  letter  in  time  to  get  it  posted  last 
night;  so  I  shall  add  a  line.  Helen  got  up  this  morning  like  a 
radiant  fairy.  She  has  flitted  from  object  to  object,  asking  the 
name  of  everything  and  kissing  me  for  very  gladness.  Last  night 
when  I  got  in  bed,  she  stole  into  my  arms  of  her  own  accord  and 
kissed  me  for  the  first  time,  and  I  thought  my  heart  would  burst, 
so  full  was  it  of  joy. 


April  10,  1887. 

I  see  an  improvement  in  Helen  from  day  to  day,  almost  from 
hour  to  hour.  Everything  must  have  a  name  now.  Wherever 
we  go,  she  asks  eagerly  for  the  names  of  things  she  has  not 
learned  at  home.  She  is  anxious  for  her  friends  to  spell,  and 


EDUCATION  317 

eager  to  teach  the  letters  to  every  one  she  meets.  She  drops  the 
signs  and  pantomime  she  used  before,  as  soon  as  she  has  words 
to  supply  their  place,  and  the  acquirement  of  a  new  word 
affords  her  the  liveliest  pleasure.  And  we  notice  that  her  face 
grows  more  expressive  each  day. 

/  have  decided  not  to  try  to  have  regular  lessons  for  the  present.  \ 
2  am  going  to  treat  Helen  exactly  like  a  two-year-old  child.     It 
occurred  to  me  the  other  day  that  it  is  absurd  to  require  a  child  to 
come  to  a  certain  place  at  a  certain  time  and  recite  certain  lessons, 
•when  he  has  not  yet  acquired  a  working  vocabulary.     I  sent  Helen 
away  and  sat  down  to  think.     I  asked  myself,   "How  does  a 
normal  child  learn  language?"     The  answer  was  simple,  "Byp 
imitation."     The  child  comes  into  the  world  with  the  ability  ten 
learn,  and  he  learns  of  himself,  provided  he  is  supplied  with! 
sufficient  outward  stimulus.     He  sees  people  do  things,  and  he\ 
tries  to  do  them.     He  hears  others  speak,  and  he  tries  to  speak.  I 
But  long  before  he  utters  his  first  word,  he  understands  what  is  said  I 
to  him.     I   have  been  observing    Helen's  little  cousin  lately. 
She  is  about  fifteen  months  old,  and    already  understands  a 
great  deal.     In  response  to  questions  she  points  out  prettily  her 
nose,  mouth,  eye,  chin,  cheek,  ear.     If  I  say,  "Where  is  baby's 
other  ear?"  she  points  it  out  correctly.    If  I  hand  her  a  flower, 
and  say,  "Give  it  to  mamma,"  she  takes  it  to  her  mother.     If  I 
eay,  "Where  is  the  little  rogue ?"  she  hides  behind  her  mother's 
chair,  or  covers  her  face  with  her  hands  and  peeps  out  at  me  with 
an  expression  of  genuine  roguishness.     She  obeys  many  com 
mands  like  these:   "Come,''  "Kiss,"  "Go  to  papa,"  "Shut  the 
door,"  "  Give  me  the  biscuit."     But  I  have  not  heard  her  try  to 
say  any  of  these  words,  although  they  have  been  repeated  hun 
dreds  of  times  in  her  hearing,  and  it  is  perfectly  evident  that  she 
understands  them.     These  observations  have  given  me  a  clue 
to  the  method  to  be  followed  in  teaching  Helen  language.     7  | 
shall  talk  into  her  hand  as  we  talk  into  the  baby's  ears.      I  shall 
assume  that  she  has  the  normal  child's  capacity  of  assimilation 
and  imitation.     /  shall  use  complete  sentences  in  talking  to  her, 
and  fill  out  the  meaning  with  gestures  and  her  descriptive  signs 
when  necessity  requires  it ;  but  I  shall  not  try  to  keep  her  mind 
fixed  on  any  one  thing.      I  shall  do  all  I  can  to  interest  and 
stimulate  it,  and  wait  for  results. 


(3i8      A  SUPPLEMENTARY  ACCOUNT 

April  24,  1887. 
The  new  scheme  works  splendidly.     Helen  knows  the  meaning 

'of  more  than  a  hundred  words  now,  and  learns  new  ones  daily 
without  the  slightest  suspicion  that  she  is  performing  a  most 

'difficult  feat.  She  learns  because  she  can't  help  it,  just  as  the 
bird  learns  to  fly.  But  don't  imagine  that  she  "talks  fluently." 

!  Like  her  baby  cousin,  she  expresses  whole  sentences  by  single 
words.  "Milk,"  with  a  gesture  means,  "Give  me  more  milk.", 

/'Mother,"  accompanied  by  an  inquiring  look,  means,  "Where  is 
mother?"  "Go"  means,  "I  want  to  go  out."  But  when  I  spell 
into  her  hand,  "Give  me  some  bread,"  she  hands  me  the  bread, 
or  if  I  say,  "Get  your  hat  and  we  will  go  to  walk,"  she  obeys 
instantly.  The  two  words,  "hat"  and  "walk"  would  have  the 
same  effect;  but  the  whole  sentence,  repeated  many  times  during 

hhe  day,  must  in  time  impress  itself  upon  the  brain,  and  by  and  by 

Vshe  will  use  it  herself. 

'||  We  play  a  little  game  which  I  find  most  useful  in  developing 
,the  intellect,  and  which  incidentally  answers  the  purpose  of  a 
language  lesson.  It  is  an  adaptation  of  hide-the-thimble.  I 
hide  something,  a  ball  or  a  spool,  and  we  hunt  for  it.  When  we 
first  played  this  game  two  or  three  days  ago,  she  showed  no 
ingenuity  at  all  in  finding  the  object.  She  looked  in  places 
where  it  would  have  been  impossible  to  put  the  ball  or  the  spool. 
For  instance,  when  I  hid  the  ball,  she  looked  under  her  writing- 
board.  Again,  when  I  hid  the  spool,  she  looked  for  it  in  a  little 
box  not  more  than  an  inch  long;  and  she  very  soon  gave  up  the 
( search.  Now  I  can  keep  up  her  interest  in  the  game  for  an  hour 
or  longer,  and  she  shows  much  more  intelligence,  and  often  great 
ingenuity  in  the  search.  This  morning  I  hid  a  cracker.  She 
looked  everywhere  she  could  'think  of  without  success,  and  was 
evidently  in  despair  when  suddenly  a  thought  struck  her,  and 
she  came  running  to  me  and  made  me  open  my  mouth  very  wide, 
while  she  gave  it  a  thorough  investigation.  Finding  no  trace  of 
the  cracker  there,  she  pointed  to  my  stomach  and  spelled  "eat," 
meaning,  "Did  you  eat  it?" 

Friday  we  went  down  town  and  met  a  gentleman  who  gave 
Helen  some  candy,  which  she  ate,  except  one  small  piece  which 
she  put  in  her  apron  pocket.  When  we  reached  home,  she  found 
her  mother,  and  of  her  own  accord  said,  "Give  baby  candy." 
Mrs.  Keller  spelled,  "No — baby  eat — no."  Helen  went  to  the 
cradle  and  felt  of  Mildred's  mouth  and  pointed  to  her  own  teeth. 


EDUCATION  319 

Mrs.  Keller  spelled  "teeth."  Helen  shook  her  head  and  spelled 
"Baby  teeth — no,  baby  eat — no,"  meaning  of  course,  "Baby 
cannot  eat  because  she  has  no  teeth." 


May  8,  1887. 

No,  I  don't  want  any  more  kindergarten  materials.  I  used 
my  little  stock  of  beads,  cards  and  straws  at  first  because  I  didn't 
know  what  else  to  do ;  but  the  need  for  them  is  past,  for  the  present 
at  any  rate. 

I  am  beginning  to  suspect  all  elaborate  and  special  systems 
of  education.  They  seem  to  me  to  be  built  up  on  the  supposi 
tion  that  every  child  is  a  kind  of  idiot  who  must  be  taught  to 
think.  Whereas,  if  the  child  is  left  to  himself,  he  will  think 
more  and  better,  if  less  showily.  Let  him  go  and  come  freely, 
let  him  touch  real  things  and  combine  his  impressions  for  him 
self,  instead  of  sitting  indoors  at  a  little  round  table,  while  a 
sweet- voiced  teacher  suggests  that  he  build  a  stone  wall  with  his 
wooden  blocks,  or  make  a  rainbow  out  of  strips  of  coloured 
paper,  or  plant  straw  trees  in  bead  flower-pots.  Such  teaching 
fills  the  mind  with  artificial  associations  that  must  be  got 
rid  of,  before  the  child  can  develop  independent  ideas  out  of 
actual  experiences. 

Helen  is  learning  adjectives  and  adverbs  as  easily  as  she 
learned  nouns.  The  idea  always  precedes  the  word.  She  had 
signs  for  small  and  large  long  before  I  came  to  her.  If  she 
wanted  a  small  object  and  was  given  a  large  one,  she  would 
shake  her  head  and  take  up  a  tiny  bit  of  the  skin  of  one  i 
hand  between  the  thumb  and  finger  of  the  other.  If  she  wanted 
to  indicate  something  large,  she  spread  the  fingers  of  both  hands 
as  wide  as  she  could,  and  brought  them  together,  as  if  to  clasp  a 
big  ball.  The  other  day  I  substituted  the  words  small  and 
large  for  these  signs,  and  she  at  once  adopted  the  words  and 
discarded  the  signs.  I  can  now  tell  her  to  bring  me  a  large 
book  or  a  small  plate,  to  go  upstairs  slowly,  to  run  fast  and  to 
walk  quickly.  This  morning  she  used  [the  conjunction  and 
for  the  first  time.  I  told  her  to  shut  the  door,  and  she  added, 
"and  lock." 

She  came  tearing  upstairs  a  few  minutes  ago  in  a  state  of  great 
excitement.  I  couldn't  make  out  at  first  what  it  was  all  about. 
She  kept  spelling  "dog — baby"  and  pointing  to  her  five  fingers 


320      A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 

one  after  another,  and  sucking  them.  My  first  thought  was, 
one  of  the  dogs  has  hurt  Mildred;  but  Helen's  beaming  face  sets 
my  fears  at  rest.  Nothing  would  do  but  I  must  go  somewhere 
with  her  to  see  something.  She  led  the  way  to  the  pump-house, 
and  there  in  the  corner  was  one  of  the  setters  with  five  dear  little 
pups!  I  taught  her  the  word  "puppy"  and  drew  her  hand  over 
them  all,  while  they  sucked,  and  spelled  "puppies."  She  was 
much  interested  in  the  feeding  process,  and  spelled  "mother- 
dog"  and  "baby"  several  times.  Helen  noticed  that  the  puppies' 
eyes  were  closed,  and  she  said,  "Eyes — shut.  Sleep — no," 
meaning,  "The  eyes  are  shut,  but  the  puppies  are  not 
asleep."  She  screamed  with  glee  when  the  little  things  squealed 
and  squirmed  in  their  efforts  to  get  back  to  their  mother,  and 
spelled,  "  Baby — eat  large."  I  suppose  her  idea  was  "  Baby  eats 
much."  She  pointed  to  each  puppy,  one  after  another,  and  to 
her  five  fingers,  and  I  taught  her  the  word  five.  Then  she 
held  up  one  finger  and  said  "baby."  I  knew  she  was  thinking  of 
Mildred,  and  I  spelled,  "One  baby  and  five  puppies."  After 
she  had  played  with  them  a  little  while,  the  thought  occurred  to 
her  that  the  puppies  must  have  special  names,  like  people,  and  she 
asked  for  the  name  of  each  pup.  I  told  her  to  ask  her  father, 
and  she  said,  "No — mother."  She  evidently  thought  mothers 
were  more  likely  to  know  about  babies  of  all  sorts.  She  noticed 
that  one  of  the  puppies  was  much  smaller  than  the  others,  and 
she  spelled  "small,"  making  the  sign  at  the  same  time,  and  I  said 
"very  small."  She  evidently  understood  that  very  was  the 
name  of  the  new  thing  that  had  come  int®  her  head;  for  all  the 
way  back  to  the  house  she  used  the  word  very  correctly. 
One  stone  was  "small,"  another  was  "very  small."  When  she 
touched  her  little  sister,  she  said:  " Baby— small.  Puppy — 
very  small."  Soon  after,  she  began  to  vary  her  steps  from  large 
to  small,  and  little  mincing  steps  were  "very  small."  She  is 
going  through  the  house  now,  applying  the  new  words  to  all 
kinds  of  objects. 

Since  I  have  abandoned  the  idea  of  regular  lessons,  I  find  that 
Helen  learns  much  faster.  I  am  convinced  that  the  time  spent 
by  the  teacher  in  digging  out  of  the  child  what  she  has  put  into 
him,  for  the  sake  of  satisfying  herself  that  it  has  taken  root,  is 
so  much  time  thrown  away.  It's  much  better,  I  think,  to  assume 
that  the  child  is  doing  his  part,  and  that  the  seed  you  have  sown 


EDUCATION  321 

will  bear  fruit  in  due  time.     It's  only  fair  to  the  child,  anyhow, 
and  it  saves  you  much  unnecessary  trouble. 


May  16,  1887. 

We  have  begun  to  take  long  walks  every  morning,  immediately  j 
after  breakfast.  The  weather  is  fine,  and  the  air  is  full  of  the  * 
scent  of  strawberries.  Our  objective  point  is  Keller's  Landing, 
on  the  Tennessee,  about  two  miles  distant.  We  never  know  how 
we  get  there,  or  where  we  are  at  a  given  moment;  but  that  only 
acids  to  our  enjoyment,  especially  when  everything  is  new  and 
strange.  Indeed,  I  feel  as  if  I  had  never  seen  anything  until 
now,  Helen  finds  so  much  to  ask  about  along  the  way.  We 
chase  butterflies,  and  sometimes  catch  one.  Then  we  sit  down 
under  a  tree,  or  in  the  shade  of  a  bush,  and  talk  about  it.  After 
wards,  if  it  has  survived  the  lesson,  we  let  it  go;  but  usually  its 
life  and  beauty  are  sacrificed  on  the  altar  of  learning,  though  in 
another  sense  it  lives  forever;  for  has  it  not  been  transformed 
into  living  thoughts  ?  It  is  wonderful  how  words  generate  ideas  ! 
Every  new  word  Helen  learns  seems  to  carry  with  it  the  necessity 
for  many  more.  Her  mind  grows  through  its  ceaseless  activity. 

Keller's  Landing  was  used  during  the  war  to  land  troops,  but 
has  long  since  gone  to  pieces,  and  is  overgrown  with  moss  and 
weeds.  The  solitude  of  the  place  sets  one  dreaming.  Near  the 
landing  there  is  a  beautiful  little  spring,  which  Helen  calls 
*' squirrel-cup,"  because  I  told  her  the  squirrels  came  there  to 
drink.  She  has  felt  dead  squirrels  and  rabbits  and  other 
wild  animals,  and  is  anxious  to  see  a  "walk-squirrel,"  which 
interpreted,  means,  I  think,  a  "live  squirrel."  We  go  home 
about  dinner-time  usually,  and  Helen  is  eager  to  tell  her  mother 
everything  she  has  seen.  This  desire  to  repeat  what  has  been  told 
her  shows  a  marked  advance  in  the  development  of  her  intellect,  and 
is  an  invaluable  stimulus  to  the  acquisition  of  language.  I  ask  all 
her  friends  to  encourage  her  to  tell  them  of  her  doings,  and  to  mani 
fest  as  much  curiosity  and  pleasure  in  her  little  adventures  as  they 
possibly  can.  This  gratifies  the  child's  love  of  approbation 
and  keeps  up  her  interest  in  things.  This  is  the  basis  of  real 
intercourse.  She  makes  many  mistakes,  of  course,  twists  words 
and  phrases,  puts  the  cart  before  the  horse,  and  gets  herself  into 
hopeless  tangles  of  nouns  and  verbs;  but  so  does  the  hearing 
child.  I  am  sure  these  difficulties  will  take  care  of  themselves. 


322      A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 

The  impulse  to  tell  is  the  important  thing.  I  supply  a  word 
here  and  there,  sometimes  a  sentence,  and  suggest  something 
which  she  has  omitted  or  forgotten.  Thus  her  vocabulary 
grows  apace,  and  the  new  words  germinate  and  bring  forth  new 
ideas;  and  they  are  the  stuff  out  of  which  heaven  and  earth  are 
made. 


May  22,  1887. 

My  work  grows  more  absorbing  and  interesting  every  day. 
Helen  is  a  wonderful  child,  so  spontaneous  and  eager  to  learn. 
She  knows  about  300  words  now  and  a  great  many  common 
idioms,  and  it  is  not  three  months  yet  since  she  learned  her  first 
word.  It  is  a  rare  privilege  to  watch  the  birth,  growth,  and  first 
feeble  struggles  of  a  living  mind ;  this  privilege  is  mine ;  and  more 
over,  it  is  given  me  to  rouse  and  guide  this  bright  intelligence. 

If  only  I  were  better  fitted  for  the  great  task  !  I  feel  every 
day  more  and  more  inadequate.  My  mind  is  full  of  ideas;  but 
i  cannot  get  them  into  working  shape.  You  see,  my  mind  is 
undisciplined,  full  of  skips  and  jumps,  and  here  and  there  a  lot 
of  things  huddled  together  in  dark  corners.  How  I  long  to  put 
it  in  order !  Oh,  if  only  there  were  some  one  to  help  me  !  I 
need  a  teacher  quite  as  much  as  Helen.  I  know  that  the 
education  of  this  child  will  be  the  distinguishing  event  of  my 
life,  if  I  have  the  brains  and  perseverance  to  accomplish  it.  I 
have  made  up  my  mind  about  one  thing:  Helen  must  learn  to 
use  books — indeed,  we  must  both  learn  to  use  them,  and  that 
reminds  me — will  you  please  ask  Mr.  Anagnos  to  get  me  Perez's 
and  Sully's  Psychologies  ?  I  think  I  shall  find  them  helpful. 

We  have  reading  lessons  every  day.  Usually  we  take  one  of 
the  little  "Readers"  up  in  a  big  tree  near  the  house  and  spend 
an  hour  or  two  finding  the  words  Helen  already  knows.  We 
make  a  sort  of  game  of  it  and  try  to  see  who  can  find  the  words 
most  quickly,  Helen  with  her  fingers,  or  I  with  my  eyes,  and 
she  learns  as  many  new  words  as  I  can  explain  with  the  help 
of  those  she  knows.  When  her  fingers  light  upon  words  she 
knows,  she  fairly  screams  with  pleasure  and  hugs  and  kisses  me 
for  joy,  especially  if  she  thinks  she  has  me  beaten.  It  would 
astonish  you  to  see  how  many  words  she  learns  in  an  hour  in  this 
pleasant  manner.  Afterward  I  put  the  new  words  into  little 
sentences  in  the  frame,  and  sometimes  it  is  possible  to  tell  & 


EDUCATION  323 

kittle  story  about  a  bee  or  a  cat  or  a  little  boy  in  this  way.  I 
can  now  tell  her  to  go  upstairs  or  down,  out  of  doors  or  into 
the  house,  lock  or  unlock  a  door,  take  or  bring  objects,  sit,  stand, 
walk,  run,  lie,  creep,  roll,  or  climb.  She  is  delighted  with  action- 
words  ;  so  it  is  no  trouble  at  all  to  teach  her  verbs.  She  is  always 
ready  for  a  lesson,  and  the  eagerness  with  which  she  absorbs 
ideas  is  very  delightful.  She  is  as  triumphant  over  the  con^ 
quest  of  a  sentence  as  a  general  who  has  captured  the  enemy's 
stronghold. 

One  of  Helen's  old  habits,  that  is  strongest  and  hardest  to 
correct,  is  a  tendency  to  break  things.  If  she  finds  anything  in 
her  way,  she  flings  it  on  the  floor,  no  matter  what  it  is:  a  glass,  a 
pitcher,  or  even  a  lamp.  She  has  a  great  many  dolls,  and  every 
one  of  them  has  been  broken  in  a  fit  of  temper  or  ennui.  The 
other  day  a  friend  brought  her  a  new  doll  from  Memphis,  and  I 
thought  I  would  see  if  I  could  make  Helen  understand  that  she 
must  not  break  it.  I  made  her  go  through  the  motion  of  knock 
ing  the  doll's  head  on  the  table  and  spelled  to  her:  "No,  no, 
Helen  is  naughty.  Teacher  is  sad,"  and  let  her  feel  the  grieved 
Expression  on  my  face.  Then  I  made  her  caress  the  doll  and 
kiss  the  hurt  spot  and  hold  it  gently  in  her  arms,  and  I  spelled 
to  her,  "Good  Helen,  teacher  is  happy,"  and  let  her  feel  the  smile 
on  my  face.  She  went  through  these  motions  several  times, 
mimicking  every  movement,  then  she  stood  very  still  for  a 
moment  with  a  troubled  look  on  her  face,  which  suddenly 
cleared,  and  she  spelled,  "Good  Helen,"  and  wreathed  her  face 
in  a  very  large,  artificial  smile.  Then  she  carried  the  doll 
upstairs  and  put  it  on  the  top  shelf  of  the  wardrobe,  and  she 
has  not  touched  it  since. 

Please  give  my  kind  regards  to  Mr.  Anagnos  and  let  him  see 
my  letter,  if  you  think  best.  I  hear  there  is  a  deaf  and  blind 
child  being  educated  at  the  Baltimore  Institution. 


June  2,  1887. 

Tfoe  weather  is  scorching.  We  need  rain  badly.  We  are  all 
troubled  about  Helen.  She  is  very  nervous  and  excitable. 
She  is  restless  at  night  and  has  no  appetite.  It  is  hard  to  know 
what  to  do  with  her.  The  doctor  says  her  mind  is  too  active; 
but  how  are  we  to  keep  her  from  thinking?  She  begins  to 
soell  the  minute  she  wakes  up  in  the  morning,  and  continues  . 


A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 


all  day  long.  If  I  refuse  to  talk  to  her,  she  spells  into  her  own 
hand,  and  apparently  carries  on  the  liveliest  conversation 
with  herself. 

I  gave  her  my  braille  slate  to  play  with,  thinking  that  the 
mechanical  pricking  of  holes  in  the  paper  would  amuse  her 
and  rest  her  mind.  But  what  was  my  astonishment  when  I 
found  that  the  little  witch  was  writing  letters  !  I  had  no  idea 
she  knew  what  a  letter  was.  She  has  often  gone  with  me  to 
the  post-office  to  mail  letters,  and  I  suppose  I  have  repeated 
to  her  things  I  wrote  to  you.  She  knew,  too,  that  I  sometimes 
write  "letters  to  blind  girls"  on  the  slate;  but  I  didn't  suppose 
that  she  had  any  clear  idea  what  a  letter  was.  One  day  she 
brought  me  a  sheet  that  she  had  punched  full  of  holes,  and 
wanted  to  put  it  in  an  envelope  and  take  it  to  the  post-office. 
She  said,  "Frank  —  letter."  I  asked  her  what  she  had  written 
to  Frank.  She  replied,  "Much  words.  Puppy  motherdog 
—  five.  Baby  —  cry.  Hot.  Helen  walk  —  no,  Sunfire  —  bad. 
Frank  —  come.  Helen  —  kiss  Frank.  Strawberries  —  very  good." 

Helen  is  almost  as  eager  to  read  as  she  is  to  talk.  I  find 
she  grasps  the  import  of  whole  sentences,  catching  from  the 
context  the  meaning  of  words  she  doesn't  know;  and  her  eager 
questions  indicate  the  outward  reaching  of  her  mind  and  its 
unusual  powers. 

The  other  night  when  I  went  to  bed,  I  found  Helen  sound 
asleep  with  a  big  book  clasped  tightly  in  her  arms.  She  had 
evidently  been  reading,  and  fallen  asleep.  When  I  asked  her 
about  it  in  the  morning,  she  said,  "Book  —  cry,"  and  completed 
her  meaning  by  shaking  and  other  signs  of  fear.  I  taught  her 
the  word  afraid,  and  she  said:  "Helen  is  not  afraid.  Book  is 
afraid.  Book  will  sleep  with  girl."  I  told  her  that  the  book 
wasn't  afraid,  and  must  sleep  in  its  case,  and  that  "girl"  mustn't 
read  in  bed.  She  looked  very  roguish,  and  apparently  under 
stood  that  I  saw  through  her  ruse. 

I  am  glad  Mr.  Anagnos  thinks  so  highly  of  me  as  a  teacher. 
But  "genius"  and  "originality"  are  words  we  should  not  use 
lightly.  If,  indeed,  they  apply  to  me  even  remotely,  I  do  not 
see  that  I  deserve  any  laudation  on  that  account. 

And  right  here  I  want  to  say  something  which  is  for  you* 
ears  alone.  Something  within  me  tells  me  that  I  shall  succeed 
beyond  my  dreams.  Were  it  not  for  some  circumstances  that 
make  such  an  idea  highly  improbable,  even  absurd.  I  should 


EDUCATION  325 

think  Helen's  education  would  surpass  in  interest  and  wonder 
Dr.  Howe's  achievement.  I  know  that  she  has  remarkable 
powers,  and  I  believe  that  I  shall  be  able  to  develop  and  mould 
them.  I  cannot  tell  how  I  know  these  things.  I  had  no  idea 
a  short  time  ago  how  to  go  to  work;  I  was  feeling  about  in  the 
dark;  but  somehow  I  know  now,  and  I  know  that  I  know. 
I  cannot  explain  it;  but  when  difficulties  arise,  I  am  not  per 
plexed  or  doubtful.  I  know  how  to  meet  them;  I  seem  to  divine 
Helen's  peculiar  needs.  It  is  wonderful. 

Already  people  are  taking  a  deep  interest  in  Helen.  No 
one  can  see  her  without  being  impressed.  She  is  no  ordinary 
child,  and  people's  interest  in  her  education  will  be  no  ordinary 
interest.  Therefore  let  us  be  exceedingly  careful  what  we  say 
and  write  about  her.  I  shall  write  freely  to  you  and  tell  you 
everything,  on  one  condition.  It  is  this:  you  must  promise 
never  to  show  my  letters  to  any  one.  My  beautiful  Helen 
shall  not  be  transformed  into  a  prodigy  if  I  can  help  it. 


June  5,   1887. 

The  heat  makes  Helen  languid  and  quiet.  Indeed,  the 
Tophetic  weather  has  reduced  us  all  to  a  semi-liquid  state. 
Yesterday  Helen  took  off  her  clothes  and  sat  in  her  skin  all  the 
afternoon.  When  the  sun  got  round  to  the  window  where 
she  was  sitting  with  her  book,  she  got  up  impatiently  and  shut 
the  window.  But  when  the  sun  came  in  just  the  same,  she  came 
over  to  me  with  a  grieved  look  and  spelled  emphatically:  "Sun 
is  bad  boy.  Sun  must  go  to  bed." 

She  is  the  dearest,  cutest  little  thing  now,  and  so  loving  ! 
One  day,  when  I  wanted  her  to  bring  me  some  water,  she  said: 
"Legs  very  tired.  Legs  cry  much." 

She  is  much  interested  in  some  little  chickens  that  are  pecking 
their  way  into  the  world  this  morning.  I  let  her  hold  a  shell  in 
her  hand,  and  feel  the  chicken  "chip,  chip."  Her  astonish 
ment,  when  she  felt  the  tiny  creature  inside,  cannot  be  put  in  a 
letter.  The  hen  was  very  gentle,  and  made  no  objection  to 
our  investigations.  Besides  the  chickens,  we  have  several 
other  additions  to  the  family — two  calves,  a  colt,  and  a  penful 
of  funny  little  pigs.  You  would  be  amused  to  see  me  hold 
a  squealing  pig  in  my  arms,  while  Helen  feels  it  all  over,  and 
tsks  countless  questions — questions  not  easy  to  answer  either 


"326      A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 

After  seeing  the  chicken  come  out  of  the  egg,  she  asked:  "Dia 
baby  pig  grow  in  egg  ?     Where  are  many  shells  r" 

Helen's  head  measures  twenty  and  one-half  inches,  and  mine 
measures  twenty-one  and  one-half  inches.  You  see,  I'm  only 
one  inch  ahead ! 


June  12,   1887. 

The  weather  continues  hot.  Helen  is  about  the  same — pale 
and  thin;  but  you  mustn't  think  she  is  really  ill.  I  am  sure 
the  heat,  and  not  the  natural,  beautiful  activity  of  her  mind, 
is  responsible  for  her  condition.  Of  course,  I  shall  not  overtax 
her  brain.  We  are  bothered  a  good  deal  by  people  who  assume 
the  responsibility  of  the  world  when  God  is  neglectful.  They 
tell  us  that  Helen  is  "overdoing,"  that  her  mind  is  too  active 
(these  very  people  thought  she  had  no  mind  at  all  a  few  months 
ago  !)  and  suggest  many  absurd  and  impossible  remedies.  But 
so  far  nobody  seems  to  have  thought  of  chloroforming  her, 
which  is,  I  think,  the  only  effective  way  of  stopping  the  natural 
exercise  of  her  faculties.  It's  queer  how  ready  people  always 
are  with  &,dvice  in  any  real  or  imaginary  emergency,  and  no 
matter  how  many  times  experience  has  shown  them  to  be 
wrong,  they  continue  to  set  forth  their  opinions,  as  if  they  had 
received  them  from  the  Almighty  ! 

I  am  teaching  Helen  the  square-hand  letters  as  a  sort  of 
diversion.  It  gives  her  something  to  do,  and  keeps  her  quiet, 
which  I  think  is  desirable  while  this  enervating  weather  lasts. 
She  has  a  perfect  mania  for  counting.  She  has  counted  every 
thing  in  the  house,  and  is  now  busy  counting  the  words  in  her 
primer.  I  hope  it  will  not  occur  to  her  to  count  the  hairs  of 
her  head.  If  she  could  see  and  hear,  I  suppose  she  would  get 
lid  of  her  superfluous  energy  in  ways  which  would  not,  perhaps. 
tax  her  brain  so  much,  although  I  suspect  that  the  ordinary 
child  takes  his  play  pretty  seriously.  The  little  fellow  who 
whirls  his  '"New  York  Flyer"  round  the  nursery,  making 
"  horseshoe  curves  "  undreamed  of  by  less  imaginative  engi 
neers,  is  concentrating  his  whole  soul  on  his  toy  locomotive. 

She  just  came  to  say,  with  a  worried  expression,  "Girl — not 
count  very  large  (many)  words.'"  I  said,  "No,  go  and  play 
\vith  Nancy."  This  suggestion  didn't  please  her,  however; 
for  she  replied.  "No.  Nancy  is  very  sick."  I  asked  what  was 


EDUCATION  327 

the  matter,  and  she  said,  "Much  (many)  teeth  do  make 
Nancy  sick."  (Mildred  is  teething.) 

I  happened  to  tell  her  the  other  day  that  the  vine  on  the 
fence  was  a  "creeper."  She  was  greatly  amused,  and  began  at 
once  to  find  analogies  between  her  movements  and  those  oi 
the  plants.  They  run,  creep,  hop,  and  skip,  bend,  fall,  climb, 
and  swing;  but  she  tells  me  roguishly  that  she  is  "walk-plant." 

Helen  held  some  worsted  for  me  last  night  while  I  wound  it. 
Afterward  she  began  to  swing  round  and  round,  spelling  to 
herself  all  the  time,  "Wind  fast,  wind  slow,"  and  apparently 
enjoying  her  conceit  very  much. 


June  15,   1887. 

We  had  a  glorious  thunder-tempest  last  night,  and  it's  much 
cooler  to-day.  We  all  feel  refreshed,  as  if  we'd  had  a  shower* 
bath.  Helen's  as  lively  as  a  cricket.  She  wanted  to  know  if 
men  were  shooting  in  the  sky  when  she  felt  the  thunder,  and 
if  the  trees  and  flowers  drank  all  the  rain. 


June  19,  1887.* 

My  little  pupil  continues  to  manifest  the  same  eagerness  to 
learn  as  at  first.  Her  every  waking  moment  is  spent  in  the 
endeavour  to  satisfy  her  innate  desire  for  knowledge,  and  her 
mind  works  so  incessantly  that  we  have  feared  for  her  health. 
But  her  appetite,  which  left  her  a  few  weeks  ago,  has  returned, 
and  her  sleep  seems  more  quiet  and  natural.  She  will  be  seven 
years  old  the  twenty-seventh  of  this  month.  Her  height  is 
four  feet  one  inch,  and  her  head  measures  twenty  and  one- 
half  inches  in  circumference,  the  line  being  drawn  round  the 
head  so  as  to  pass  over  the  prominences  of  the  parietal  and 
frontal  bones.  Above  this  line  the  head  rises  one  and  one- 
fourth  inches. 

During  our  walks  she  keeps  up  a  continual  spelling,  and 
delights  to  accompany  it  with  actions  such  as  skipping,  hopping, 
jumping,  running,  walking  fast,  walking  slow,  and  the  like. 
When  she  drops  stitches  she  says,  "Helen  wrong,  teacher  will 
cry."  If  she  wants  water  she  says,  "Give  Helen  drink  water." 
She  knows  four  hundred  words  besides  numerous  proper  nouns 

This  extract  was  published  in  The  Perkins  Institution  Report  of  1887. 


328      A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 

In  one  lesson  I  taught  her  these  words:  bedstead,  mattress,  sheei* 
blanket,  comforter,  spread,  pillow.  The  next  day  I  found  that 
she  remembered  all  but  spread.  The  same  day  she  had  learned, 
at  different  times,  the  words:  house,  weed,  dust,  swing,  molasses, 
fast,  slow,  maple-sugar  and  counter,  and  she  had  not  forgotten 
one  of  these  last.  This  will  give  you  an  idea  of  the  retentive 
memory  she  possesses.  She  can  count  to  thirty  very  quickly, 
and  can  write  seven  of  the  square-hand  letters  and  the  words 
which  can  be  made  with  them.  She  seems  to  understand 
about  writing  letters,  and  is  impatient  to  "write  Frank  letter." 
She  enjoys  punching  holes  in  paper  with  the  stiletto,  and  I 
supposed  it  was  because  she  could  examine  the  result  of  her 
work;  but  we  watched  her  one  day,  and  I  was  much  surprised 
to  find  that  she  imagined  she  was  writing  a  letter.  She  woulcj 
spell  "Eva"  (a  cousin  of  whom  she  is  very  fond)  with  one  hand, 
then  make  believe  to  write  it;  then  spell,  "sick  in  bed,"  and  write 
that.  She  kept  this  up  for  nearly  an  hour.  She  was  (or  imag 
ined  she  was)  putting  on  paper  the  things  which  had  interested 
her.  When  she  had  finished  the  letter  she  carried  it  to  her 
mother  and  spelled,  "Frank  letter,"  and  gave  it  to  her  brother 
to  take  to  the  post-office.  She  had  been  with  me  to  take  letters 
to  the  post-office. 

She  recognizes  instantly  a  person  whom  she  has  once  met,  and 
spells  the  name.  Unlike  Laura  Bridgman,  she  is  fond  of  gentle- 
men,  and  we  notice  that  she  makes  friends  with  a  gentleman 
sooner  than  with  a  lady. 

She  is  always  ready  to  share  whatever  she  has  with  those 
about  her,  often  keeping  but  very  little  for  herself.  She  is 
very  fond  of  dress  and  of  all  kinds  of  finery,  and  is  very 
unhappy  when  she  finds  a  hole  in  anything  she  is  wearing.  She 
will  insist  on  having  her  hair  put  in  curl  papers  when  she  is 
so  sleepy  she  can  scarcely  stand.  She  discovered  a  hole  in 
her  boot  the  other  morning,  and,  after  breakfast,  she  went  to 
her  father  and  spelled,  "Helen  new  boot  Simpson  (her  brother) 
buggy  store  man."  One  can  easily  see  her  meaning. 


July  3,  1887. 

There  was  a  great  rumpus  downstairs  this  morning.  I  heard 
Helen  screaming,  and  ran  down  to  see  what  was  the  matter. 
I  found  her  in  a  terrible  passion.  I  had  hoped  this  would 


EDUCATION  329 

never  happen  again.  She  has  been  so  gentle  and  obedient 
the  past  two  months,  I  thought  love  had  subdued  the  lion; 
but  it  seems  he  was  only  sleeping.  At  all  events,  there  she  was, 
tearing  and  scratching  and  biting  Viney  like  some  wild  thing. 
It  seems  Viney  had  attempted  to  take  a  glass,  which  Helen 
was  filling  with  stones,  fearing  that  she  would  break  it.  Helen 
resisted,  and  Viney  tried  to  force  it  out  of  her  hand,  and  I 
suspect  that  she  slapped  the  child,  or  did  something  which 
caused  this  unusual  outburst  of  temper.  When  I  took  her 
hand  she  was  trembling  violently,  and  began  to  cry.  I  asked 
what  was  the  matter,  and  she  spelled:  "Viney — bad,"  and  began 
to  slap  and  kick  her  with  renewed  violence.  I  held  her  hands 
firmly  until  she  became  more  calm. 

Later  Helen  came  to  my  room,  looking  very  sad,  and  wanted 
to  kiss  me.  I  said,  "I  cannot  kiss  naughty  girl."  She  spelled, 
"Helen  is  good,  Viney  is  bad."  I  said:  "You  struck  Viney  and 
kicked  her  and  hurt  her.  You  were  very  naughty,  and  I  cannot 
kiss  naughty  girl."  She  stood  very  still  for  a  moment,  and  it 
was  evident  from  her  face,  which  was  flushed  and  troubled, 
that  a  struggle  was  going  on  in  her  mind.  Then  she 
said:  "Helen  did  (does)  not  love  teacher.  Helen  do  love 
mother.  Mother  will  whip  Viney."  I  told  her  that  she  had 
better  not  talk  about  it  any  more,  but  think.  She  knew  that 
I  was  much  troubled,  and  would  have  liked  to  stay  near  me; 
but  I  thought  it  best  for  her  to  sit  by  herself.  At  the  dinner- 
table  she  was  greatly  disturbed  because  I  didn't  eat,  and 
suggested  that  "Cook  make  tea  for  teacher."  But  I  told  her 
that  my  heart  was  sad,  and  I  didn't  feel  like  eating.  She 
began  to  cry  and  sob  and  clung  to  me. 

She  was  very  much  excited  when  we  went  upstairs;  so  I 
tried  to  interest  her  in  a  curious  insect  called  a  stick-bug.  It's 
the  queerest  thing  I  ever  saw — a  little  bundle  of  fagots  fastened 
together  in  the  middle.  I  wouldn't  believe  it  was  alive  until  I 
saw  it  move.  Even  then  it  looked  more  like  a  mechanical  toy  than 
a  living  creature.  But  the  poor  little  girl  couldn't  fix  her  atten 
tion.  Her  heart  was  full  of  trouble,  and  she  wanted  to  talk 
about  it.  She  said:  "Can  bug  know  about  naughty  girl?  Is 
bug  very  happy?"  Then,  putting  her  arms  round  my  neck, 
She  said:  "I  am  (will  be)  good  to-morrow.  Helen  is  (will  be) 
good  all  days."  I  said,  "Will  you  tell  Viney  you  are  very  sorry 
you  scratched  and  kicked  her?"  She  smiled  and  answered* 


330         A  SUPPLEMENTARY  ACCOUNT 

"Viney  (can)  not  spell  words."  "I  will  tell  Viney  you  are 
very  sorry,"  I  said.  "Will  you  go  with  me  and  find  Viney?" 
She  was  very  willing  to  go,  and  let  Viney  kiss  her,  though  she 
didn't  return  the  caress.  She  has  been  unusually  affectionate 
since,  and  it  seems  to  me  there  is  a  sweetness — a  soul-beauty 
in  her  face  which  I  have  not  seen  before. 


July  31,  1887. 

Helen's  pencil-writing  is  excellent,  as  you  will  see  from  the 
enclosed  letter,  which  she  wrote  for  her  own  amusement.  I  am 
teaching  her  the  braille  alphabet,  and  she  is  delighted  to  be 
able  to  make  words  herself  that  she  can  feel. 

She  has  now  reached  the  question  stage  of  her  development. 
It  is  "what?"  "why?"  "when?"  especially  "why?"  all  day  long, 
and  as  her  intelligence  grows  her  inquiries  become  more  insistent. 
I  remember  how  unbearable  I  used  to  find  the  inquisitiveness  of 
my  friends'  children;  but  I  know  now  that  these  questions 
indicate  the  child's  growing  interest  in  the  cause  of  things. 
The  "why?"  is  the  door  through  which  he  enters  the  world  of 
reason  and  reflection.  "How  does  carpenter  know  to  build 
house?"  "Who  put  chickens  in  eggs?"  "Why  is  Viney  black?" 
"Flies  bite— why?"  "Can  flies  know  not  to  bite?"  "Why  did 
father  kill  sheep?"  Of  course  she  asks  many  questions  that 
are  not  as  intelligent  as  these.  Her  mind  isn't  more  logical 
than  the  minds  of  ordinary  children.  On  the  whole,  her  ques 
tions  are  analogous  to  those  that  a  bright  three-year-old  child 
asks;  but  her  desire  for  knowledge  is  so  earnest,  the  questions 
are  never  tedious,  though  they  draw  heavily  upon  my  meager 
store  of  information,  and  tax  my  ingenuity  to  the  utmost. 

I  had  a  letter  from  Laura  Bridgman  last  Sunday.  Please 
give  her  my  love,  and  tell  her  Helen  sends  her  a  kiss.  I  read 
the  letter  at  the  supper-table,  and  Mrs.  Keller  exclaimed: 
"Why,  Miss  Annie,  Helen  writes  almost  as  well  as  that  now!" 
It  is  true. 


August  21,  1887. 

We  had  a  beautiful  time  in  Huntsville.  Everybody  there 
was  delighted  with  Helen,  and  showered  her  with  gifts  and 
kisses.  The  first  evening  she  learned  the  names  of  all  the  people 


EDUCATION  331 

in  the  hotel,  about  twenty,  I  think.  The  next  morning  we 
were  astonished  to  find  that  she  remembered  all  of  them,  and 
recognized  every  one  she  had  met  the  night  before.  She  taught 
the  young  people  the  alphabet,  and  several  of  them  learned  to 
talk  with  her.  One  of  the  girls  taught  her  to  dance  the  polka, 
and  a  little  boy  showed  her  his  rabbits  and  spelled  their  names 
for  her.  She  was  delighted,  and  showed  her  pleasure  by  hugging 
and  kissing  the  little  fellow,  which  embarrassed  him  very  much. 

We  had  Helen's  picture  taken  with  a  fuzzy,  red-eyed  little 
poodle,  who  got  himself  into  my  lady's  good  graces  by  tricks 
and  cunning  devices  known  only  to  dogs  with  an  instinct  for 
getting  what  they  want. 

She  has  talked  incessantly  since  her  return  about  what  she 
did  in  Huntsville,  and  we  notice  a  very  decided  improvement 
In  her  ability  to  use  language.  Curiously  enough,  a  drive  we 
took  to  the  top  of  Monte  Sano,  a  beautiful  mountain  not  far 
from  Huntsville,  seems  to  have  impressed  her  more  than  any 
thing  else,  except  the  wonderful  poodle.  She  remembers  all 
that  I  told  her  about  it,  and  in  telling  her  mother  repeated  th& 
very  words  and  phrases  1  had  used  in  describing  it  to  her.  In 
conclusion  she  asked  her  mother  if  she  should  like  to  see  "very 
high  mountain  and  beautiful  cloud-caps."  I  hadn't  used  this 
expression.  I  said,  "The  clouds  touch  the  mountain  softly, 
like  beautiful  flowers."  You  see,  I  had  to  use  words  and  images 
with  which  she  was  familiar  through  the  sense  of  touch.  But 
it  hardly  seems  possible  that  any  mere  words  should  convey  to 
one  who  has  never  seen  a  mountain  the  faintest  idea  of  its 
grandeur;  and  I  don't  see  how  any  one  is  ever  to  know  what 
impression  she  did  receive,  or  the  cause  of  her  pleasure  in  what 
was  told  her  about  it.  Ail  that  we  do  know  certainly  is  that 
she  has  a  good  memory  and  imagination  and  the  faculty  of 
association. 


August  28,  1887. 

I  do  wish  things  would  stop  being  born!  "New  puppies," 
"new  calves"  and  "new  babies"  keep  Helen's  interest  in  the 
why  and  wherefore  of  things  at  white  heat.  The  arrival  of  a 
new  baby  at  Ivy  Green  the  other  day  was  the  occasion  of  a 
fresh  outburst  of  questions  about  the  origin  of  babies  and 
live  things  in  general.  "Where  d;4  Leila  get  new  baby?  How 


332         A  SUPPLEMENTARY  ACCOUNT 

did  doctor  know  where  to  find  baby?  Did  Leila  tell  doctor  to 
get  very  small  new  baby?  Where  did  doctor  find  Guy  and 
Prince?"  (puppies)  "Why  is  Elizabeth  Evelyn's  sister?"  etc., 
etc.  These  questions  were  sometimes  asked  under  circum 
stances  which  rendered  them  embarrassing,  and  I  made  up  my 
mind  that  something  must  be  done.  If  it  was  natural  for 
Helen  to  ask  such  questions,  it  was  my  duty  to  answer  them. 
It's  a  great  mistake,  I  think,  to  put  children  off  with  false 
hoods  and  nonsense,  when  their  growing  powers  of  observation 
and  discrimination  excite  in  them  a  desire  to  know  about  things. 
From  the  beginning,  /  have  made  it  a  practice  to  answer  all  Helen  s 
questions  to  the  best  of  my  ability  in  a  way  intelligible  to  her,  and 
at  the  same  time  truthfully.  "Why  should  I  treat  these  ques 
tions  differently?"  I  asked  myself.  I  decided  that  there  was 
no  reason,  except  my  deplorable  ignorance  of  the  great  facts 
that  underlie  our  physical  existence.  It  was  no  doubt  because 
of  this  ignorance  that  I  rushed  in  where  more  experienced 
angels  fear  to  tread.  There  isn't  a  living  soul  in  this  part  of 
the  world  to  wnom  I  can  go  for  advice  in  this,  or  indeed,  in  any 
other  educational  difficulty.  The  only  thing  for  me  to  do  in  a 
perplexity  is  to  go  ahead,  and  learn  by  making  mistakes.  But 
in  this  case  I  don't  think  I  made  a  mistake.  I  tool:  Helen 
and  my  Botany,  "How  Plants  Grow,"  up  in  the  tree,  where  we 
often  go  to  read  and  study-  and  I  told  her  in  simple  words 
the  story  of  plant-life.  I  reminded  her  of  the  corn,  beans  and 
watermelon-seed  she  had  planted  in  the  spring,  and  told  her 
that  the  tall  corn  in  the  garden,  and  the  beans  and  water- 
melon  vines  had  grown  from  those  seeds.  I  explained  how 
the  earth  keeps  the  seeds  warm  and  moist,  until  the  little  leaves 
are  strong  enough  to  push  themselves  out  into  the  light  and  air 
where  they  can  breathe  and  grow  and  bloom  and  make  more 
seeds,  from  which  other  baby-piants  shall  grow.  I  drew  an 
analogy  between  plant  and  animal-life,  and  told  her  that 
seeds  are  eggs  as  truly  as  hens'  eggs  and  birds'  eggs — that  the 
mother  hen  keeps  her  eggs  warm  and  dry  until  the  little  chicks 
come  out.  1  made  her  understand  that  all  life  comes  from  an 
egg.  The  mother  bird  lays  her  eggs  in  a  nest  and  keeps  them 
warm  until  the  fondlings  are  hatched.  The  mother  fish  lays 
her  eggs  where  she  knows  they  will  be  moist  ami  safe,  until  it 
is  time  for  the  little  fish  to  come  out.  I  told  her  that  she  could 
call  the  egg  the  cradle  of  life.  Then  I  told  her  that  other  animals 


EDUCATION  333 

&ke  the  dog  and  cow,  and  human  beings,  do  not  lay  their  eggsf 
but  nourish  their  young  in  their  own  bodies.  I  had  no  diffi 
culty  in  making  it  clear  to  her  that  if  plants  and  animals  didn't 
produce  offspring  after  their  kind,  they  would  cease  to  exist, 
and  everything  in  the  world  would  soon  die.  But  the  function 
of  sex  I  passed  over  as  lightly  as  possible.  I  did,  however, 
try  to  give  her  the  idea  that  love  is  the  great  continuer  ot 
life.  The  subject  was  difficult,  and  my  knowledge  inadequate; 
but  I  am  glad  I  didn't  shirk  my  responsibility;  for,  stumbling, 
hesitating,  and  incomplete  as  my  explanation  was,  it  touched 
deep  responsive  chords  in  the  soul  of  my  little  pupil,  and  the 
readiness  with  whic'n  she  comprehended  the  great  facts  of  phys 
ical  life  confirmed  me  in  the  opinion  that  the  child  has  dormant 
within  him,  when  he  comes  into  the  world,  all  the  experiences 
of  the  race.  These  experiences  are  like  photographic  nega 
tives,  until  language  develops  them  and  brings  out  the  memory- 
images. 


September  4,  1887. 

Helen  had  a  letter  this  morning  from  her  uncle,  Doctor  Keller. 
He  invited  her  to  come  to  see  him  at  Hot  Springs.  The  name 
Hot  Springs  interested  her,  and  she  asked  many  questions 
about  it.  She  knows  about  cold  springs.  There  are  several 
near  Tuscumbia;  one  very  large  one  from  which  the  town  got  its 
name.  "Tuscumbia"  is  the  Indian  for  "Great  Spring."  But 
she  was  surprised  that  hot  water  should  come  out  of  the  ground. 
She  wanted  to  know  who  made  fire  under  the  ground,  and  if 
it  was  like  the  fire  in  stoves,  and  if  it  burned  the  roots  of  plants 
and  trees. 

She  was  much  pleased  with  the  letter,  and  after  she  had 
asked  all  the  questions  she  could  think  of,  she  took  it  to  her 
mother,  who  was  sewing  in  the  hall,  and  read  it  to  her.  It  was 
amusing  to  see  her  hold  it  before  her  eyes  and  spell  the  sen 
tences  out  on  her  fingers,  just  as  I  had  done.  Afterward  she 
tried  to  read  it  to  Belle  (the  dog)  and  Mildred.  Mrs.  Keller 
and  I  watched  the  nursery  comedy  from  the  door.  Belle  was 
sleepy,  and  Mildred  inattentive.  Helen  looked  very  serious, 
and,  once  or  twice,  when  Mildred  tried  to  take  the  letter,  she 
put  her  hand  away  impatiently.  Finally  Belle  got  up,  shook 
herself,  and  was  about  to  walk  away,  when  Helen  caught  Jbier 


334  A  SUPPLEMENTARY  ACCOUNT 

by  the  neck  and  forced  her  to  lie  down  again.  In  the  mean 
time  Mildred  had  got  the  letter  and  crept  away  with  it.  Helen 
felt  on  the  floor  for  it,  but  not  finding  it  there,  she  evidently 
suspected  Mildred;  for  she  made  the  little  sound  which  is  her 
"baby  call."  Then  she  got  up  and  stood  very  still,  as  if  listen 
ing  with  her  feet  for  Mildred's  "thump,  thump."  When  she 
had  located  the  sound,  she  went  quickly  toward  the  little 
culprit  and  found  her  chewing  the  precious  letter  !  This  was 
too  much  for  Helen.  She  snatched  the  letter  and  slapped  the 
little  hands  soundly.  Mrs.  Keller  took  the  baby  in  her  arms, 
and  when  we  had  succeeded  in  pacifying  her,  I  asked  Helen, 
"What  did  you  do  to  baby?"  She  looked  troubled,  and  hesi 
tated  a  moment  before  answering.  Then  she  said:  "Wrong  girl 
did  eat  letter.  Helen  did  slap  very  wrong  girl."  I  told  her 
that  Mildred  was  very  small,  and  didn't  know  that  it  was  wrong 
to  put  the  letter  in  her  mouth. 

"I  did  tell  baby,  no,  no,  much  (many)  times,"  was  Helen's 
reply. 

I  said,  "Mildred  doesn't  understand  your  fingers,  and  we 
Ulust  be  very  gentle  with  her." 

She  shook  her  head. 

"Baby — not  think.  Helen  will  give  baby  pretty  letter,"  and 
with  that  she  ran  upstairs  and  brought  down  a  neatly  folded 
fiheet  of  braille,  on  which  she  had  written  some  words,  anc? 
gave  it  to  Mildred,  saying,  "Baby  can  eat  all  words." 


September  18,  1887. 

I  do  not  wonder  you  were  surprised  to  hear  that  I  was  going 
to  write  something  for  the  report.  I  do  not  know  myself  how 
it  happened,  except  that  I  got  tired  of  saying  "no,"  and  Captain 
Keller  urged  me  to  do  it.  He  agreed  with  Mr.  Anagnos  that 
it  was  my  duty  to  give  others  the  benefit  of  my  experience* 
Besides,  they  said  Helen's  wonderful  deliverance  might  be  a 
boon  to  other  afflicted  children. 

When  I  sit  down  to  write,  my  thoughts  freeze,  and  when 
I  get  them  on  paper  they  look  like  wooden  soldiers  all  in  a 
row,  and  if  a  live  one  happens  along,  I  put  him  in  a  straight- 
jacket.  It's  easy  enough,  however,  to  say  Helen  is  wonderful, 
because  she  really  is.  I  kept  a  record  of  everything  she  said 
last  week,  and  I  found  that  she  knows  six  hundred  words. 


EDUCATION  335 

This  does  not  mean,  however,  that  she  always  uses  them  cor 
rectly.  Sometimes  her  sentences  are  like  Chinese  puzzles;  but 
they  are  the  kind  of  puzzles  children  make  when  they  try  to 
express  their  half-formed  ideas  by  means  of  arbitrary  language. 
She  has  the  true  language-impulse,  and  shows  great  fertility 
of  resource  in  making  the  words  at  her  command  convey  he* 
meaning. 

Lately  she  has  been  much  interested  in  colour.  She  found 
the  word  "brown"  in  her  primer  and  wanted  to  know  its  mean 
ing.  I  told  her  that  her  hair  was  brown,  and  she  asked,  "Is 
brown  very  pretty?"  After  we  had  been  all  over  the  house, 
and  I  had  told  her  the  colour  of  everything  she  touched,  she 
suggested  that  we  go  to  the  hen-houses  and  barns;  but  I  told 
her  she  must  wait  until  another  day  because  I  was  very  tired. 
We  sat  in  the  hammock;  but  there  was  no  rest  for  the  weary 
there.  Helen  was  eager  to  know  "more  colour."  I  wonder 
if  she  has  any  vague  idea  of  colour — any  reminiscent  impression 
of  light  and  sound.  It  seems  as  if  a  child  who  could  see  and 
hear  until  her  nineteenth  month  must  retain  some  of  her  first 
impressions,  though  ever  so  faintly.  Helen  talks  a  great  deal 
about  things  that  she  cannot  know  of  through  the  sense  of 
touch.  She  asks  many  questions  about  the  sky,  day  and 
night,  the  ocean  and  mountains.  She  likes  to  have  me  tell  her 
what  I  see  in  pictures. 

But  I  seem  to  have  lost  the  thread  of  my  discourse. 
"What  colour  is  think?"  was  one  of  the  restful  questions  she 
asked,  as  we  swung  to  and  fro  in  the  hammock.  I  told  her 
that  when  we  are  happy  our  thoughts  are  bright,  and  when 
we  are  naughty  they  are  sad.  Quick  as  a  flash  she  said,  "My 
think  is  white,  Viney's  think  is  black."  You  see,  she  had 
an  idea  that  the  colour  of  our  thoughts  matched  that  of  our 
skin.  I  couldn't  help  laughing,  for  at  that  very  moment  Viney 
shouting  at  the  top  of  her  voice: 

"I  long  to  sit  on  clem  jasper  walls 
And  see  dem  sinners  stumble  and  fall!" 


October  3,  1887. 

My  account  for  the  report  is  finished  and  sent  off.  I  have 
two  copies,  and  will  send  you  one;  but  you  mustn't  show  it  to 
anybody.  It's  Mr.  Anagnos's  property  until  it  is  oublished. 


336      A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 

I  suppose  the  little  girls  enjoyed  Helen's  letter.*  She  wrote 
it  out  of  her  own  head,  as  the  children  say. 

She  talks  a  great  deal  about  what  she  will  do  when  she  goes 
to  Boston.  She  asked  the  other  day,  "Who  made  all  things 
and  Boston?"  She  says  Mildred  will  not  go  there  because 
"Baby  does  cry  all  days." 


October  25,  1887. 

Helen  wrote  another  letterf  to  the  little  girls  yesterday,  and  her 
father  sent  it  to  Mr.  Anagnos.  Ask  him  to  let  you  see  it.  She 
has  begun  to  use  the  pronouns  of  her  own  accord.  This  morning 
I  happened  to  say,  "Helen  will  go  upstairs."  She  laughed 
and  said,  "Teacher  is  wrong.  You  will  ero  upstairs."  This  is 
another  great  forward  step.  Thus  it  always  is.  Yesterday's 
perplexities  are  strangely  simple  to-day,  and  to-day's  diffi 
culties  become  to-morrow's  pastime. 

The  rapid  development  of  Helen's  mind  is  beautiful  to  watch. 
I  doubt  if  any  teacher  ever  had  a  work  of  such  absorbing  interest. 
There  must  have  been  one  lucky  star  in  the  heavens  at  my 
birth,  and  I  am  just  beginning  to  feel  its  beneficent  influence. 

I  had  two  letters  from  Mr.  Anagnos  last  week.  He  is  more 
grateful  for  my  report  than  the  English  idiom  will  express. 
Now  he  wants  a  picture  "of  darling  Helen  and  her  illustrious 
teacher,  to  grace  the  pages  of  the  forthcoming  annual  report." 


OCTOBER,  18874 

You  have  probably  read,  ere  this,  Helen's  second  letter  to  the 
little  girls.  I  am  aware  that  the  progress  which  she  has  made 
between  the  writing  of  the  two  letters  must  seem  incredible. 
Only  those  who  are  with  her  daily  can  realize  the  rapid  advance 
ment  which  she  is  making  in  the  acquisition  of  language,  You 
will  see  from  her  letter  that  she  uses  many  pronouns  correctly. 
She  rarely  misuses  or  omits  one  in  conversation.  Her  passion 
for  writing  letters  and  putting  her  thoughts  upon  paper  grows 
more  intense.  She  now  tells  stories  in  which  the  imagination 

*See  page  146.  tSee  page  147. 

t  This  extract  from  a  letter  to  Mr-  Anagnos  was  published  in  the  Perkins 
Institution  Report  of  1887 


EDUCATION  337 

plays  an  important  part.  She  is  also  beginning  to  realize  that 
she  is  not  like  other  children.  The  other  day  she  asked,  "  What 
do  my  eyes  do?"  I  told  her  that  I  could  see  things  with  my 
eyes,  and  that  she  could  see  them  with  her  fingers.  After  think 
ing  a  moment  she  said,  "  My  eyes  are  bad  ! "  then  she  changed  it 
into  "My  eyes  are  sick  1" 


Miss  Sullivan's  first  report,  which  was  published  in  the  official 
report  of  the  Perkins  Institution  for  the  year  1887,  is  a  short 
summary  of  what  is  fully  recorded  in  the  letters.  Here  follows 
the  last  part,  beginning  with  the  great  day,  April  5th,  when 
Helen  learned  water. 

In  her  reports  Miss  Sullivan  speaks  of  "lessons"  as  if  they 
came  in  regular  order.  This  is  the  effect  of  putting  it  all  in  a 
nummary.  "Lesson"  is  too  formal  for  the  continuous  daily 
work. 

One  day  I  took  her  to  the  cistern.  As  the  water  gushed  from 
the  pump  I  spelled  "  w-a-t-e-r.  '  Instantly  she  tapped  my  hand 
for  a  repetition,  and  then  made  the  word  herself  with  a  radiant 
face.  Just  then  the  nurse  came  into  the  cistern-house  bringing 
her  little  sister.  I  put  Helen's  hand  on  the  baby  and  formed 
the  letters  "b-a-b-y,"  which  she  repeated  without  help  and  with 
the  light  of  a  new  intelligence  in  her  face. 

On  our  way  back  to  the  house  everything  she  touched  had  to 
be  named  for  her,  and  repetition  was  seldom  necessary.  Neither 
the  length  of  the  word  nor  the  combination  of  letters  seems  to 
make  any  difference  to  the  child.  Indeed,  she  remembers 
heliotrope  and  chrysanthemum  more  readily  than  she  does 
shorter  names.  At  the  end  of  August  she  knew  625  words. 

This  lesson  was  followed  by  one  on  words  indicative  of 
place-relations.  Her  dress  was  put  in  a  trunk,  and  then  on  it, 
and  these  prepositions  were  spelled  for  her.  Very  soon  she 
learned  the  difference  between  on  and  in,  though  it  was  some 
time  before  she  could  use  these  words  in  sentences  of  her  own. 
Whenever  it  was  possible  she  was  made  the  actor  in  the  lesson, 
and  was  delighted  to  stand  on  the  chair,  and  to  be  put  into  the 
wardrobe.  In  connection  with  this  lesson  she  learned  the  names 
of  the  members  of  the  family  and  the  word  is.  "Helen  is  in 


338      A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 

wardrobe,"  "Mildred  is  in  crib,"  "Box  is  on  table,"  "Papa  is 
on  bed,"  are  specimens  of  sentences  constructed  by  her  during 
the  latter  part  of  April. 

Next  came  a  lesson  on  words  expressive  of  positive  quality., 
For  the  first  lesson  I  had  two  balls,  one  made  of  worsted,  large 
and  soft,  the  other  a  bullet.  She  perceived  the  difference  in  size 
at  once.  Taking  the  bullet  she  made  her  habitual  sign  for  small — 
that  is,  by  pinching  a  little  bit  of  the  skin  of  one  hand.  Then 
she  took  the  other  ball  and  made  her  sign  for  large  by  spreading 
both  hands  over  it.  I  substituted  the  adjectives  large  and 
small  for  those  signs.  Then  her  attention  was  called  to  the 
hardness  of  the  one  ball  and  the  softness  of  the  other,  and  she 
learned  soft  and  hard.  A  few  minutes  afterward  she  felt  of  her 
little  sister's  head  and  said  to  her  mother,  "Mildred's  head  is 
small  and  hard."  Next  I  tried  to  teach  her  the  meaning  of  fast 
and  slow.  She  helped  rie  wind  some  worsted  one  day,  first 
rapidly  and  afterward  --lowly.  I  then  said  to  her  with  the  finger 
alphabet,  "wind  fast,"  or  "wind  slow,"  holding  her  hands  and 
showing  her  how  to  do  as  I  wished.  The  next  day,  while  exer 
cising,  she  spelled  to  me,  "Helen  wind,  fast,"  and  began  to  walk 
rapidly.  Then  she  said,  "Helen  wind  slow,"  again  suiting  the 
action  to  the  words. 

I  now  thought  it  time  to  teach  her  to  read  printed  words.  A 
slip  on  which  was  printed,  in  raised  letters,  the  word  box  was 
placed  on  the  object;  and  the  same  experiment  was  tried  with 
a  great  many  articles,  but  she  did  not  immediately  comprehend 
that  the  label-name  represented  the  thing.  Then  I  took  an 
alphabet  sheet  and  put  her  finger  on  the  letter  A,  at  the  same 
time  making  A  with  my  fingers.  She  moved  her  finger  from 
one  printed  character  to  another  as  I  formed  each  letter  on  my 
fingers.  She  learned  all  the  letters,  both  capital  and  small,  in 
one  day.  Next  I  turned  to  the  first  page  of  the  primer  and  made 
her  touch  the  word  cat,  spelling  it  on  my  fingers  at  the  same 
time.  Instantly  she  caught  the  idea,  and  asked  me  to  find 
dog  and  many  other  words.  Indeed,  she  was  much  displeased 
because  I  could  not  find  her  name  in  the  book.  Just  then  I  had 
no  sentences  in  raised  letters  which  she  could  understand;  but 
she  would  sit  for  hours  feeling  each  word  in  her  book.  When  she 
touched  one  with  which  she  was  familiar,  a  peculiarly  sweet 
expression  lighted  her  face,  and  we  saw  her  countenance  growing 
sweeter  and  more  earnest  every  day.  About  this  time  I  sent  5 


EDUCATION  339 

list  of  the  words  she  knew  to  Mr.  Anagnos,  and  he  very  kindly  had 
them  printed  for  her.  Her  mother  and  I  cut  up  several  sheets 
of  printed  words  so  that  she  could  arrange  them  into  sentences. 
This  delighted  her  more  than  anything  she  had  yet  done;  and 
the  practice  thus  obtained  prepared  the  way  for  the  writing 
lessons.  There  was  no  difficulty  in  making  her  understand  how 
to  write  the  same  sentences  with  pencil  and  paper  which  she 
*nade  every  day  with  the  slips,  and  she  very  soon  perceived  that 
she  need  not  confine  herself  to  phrases  already  learned,  but  could 
communicate  any  thought  that  was  passing  through  her  mind. 
I  put  one  of  the  writing  boards  used  by  the  blind  between  the 
folds  of  the  paper  on  the  table,  and  allowed  her  to  examine  an 
alphabet  of  the  square  letters,  such  as  she  was  to  make.  I  then 
guided  her  hand  to  form  the  sentence,  "Cat  does  drink  milk." 
When  she  finished  it  she  was  overjoyed.  She  carried  it  to  hei 
mother,  who  spelled  it  to  her. 

Day  after  day  she  moved  her  pencil  in  the  same  tracks  along 
the  grooved  paper,  never  for  a  moment  expressing  the  least 
impatience  or  sense  of  fatigue. 

As  she  had  now  learned  to  express  her  ideas  on  paper,  I  next 
taught  her  the  braille  system.  She  learned  it  gladly  when  she 
discovered  that  she  could  herself  read  what  she  had  written; 
and  this  still  affords  her  constant  pleasure.  For  a  whole  evening 
she  will  sit  at  the  table  writing  whatever  comes  into  her  busy 
brain;  and  I  seldom  find  any  difficulty  in  reading  what  she  has 
*vritten. 

Her  progress  in  arithmetic  has  been  equally  remarkable. 
She  can  add  and  subtract  with  great  rapidity  up  to  the  sum  of 
one  hundred;  and  she  knows  the  multiplication  tables  as  far  as 
the  -fives.  She  was  working  recently  with  the  number  forty, 
when  I  said  to  her,  "Make  twos."  She  replied  immediately, 
"Twenty  twos  make  forty."  Later  I  said,  "Make  fifteen  threes 
and  count."  I  wished  her  to  make  the  groups  of  threes  and 
supposed  she  would  then  have  to  count  them  in  order  to  know 
what  number  fifteen  threes  would  make.  But  instantly  she 
spelled  the  answer:  "Fifteen  threes  make  forty-five." 

On  being  told  that  she  was  white  and  that  one  of  the  servants 
was  black,  she  concluded  that  all  who  occupied  a  similar  menial 
position  were  of  the  same  hue;  and  whenever  I  asked  her  the 
colour  of  a  servant  she  would  say  "black."  When  asked  the 


340       A  SUPPLEMENTARY  ACCOUNT 

colour  of  some  one  whose  occupation  she  did  not  know  she 
seemed  bewildered,  and  finally  said  "blue." 

She  has  never  been  told  anything  about  death  or  the  burial  of 
the  body,  and  yet  on  entering  the  cemetery  for  the  first  time 
in  her  life,  with  her  mother  and  me,  to  look  at  some  flowers, 
she  laid  her  hand  on  our  eyes  and  repeatedly  spelled  "cry — 
cry."  Her  eyes  actually  filled  with  tears.  The  flowers  did  not 
seem  to  give  her  pleasure,  and  she  was  very  quiet  while  we 
stayed  there. 

On  another  occasion  while  walking  with  me  she  seemed 
conscious  of  the  presence  of  her  brother,  although  we  were 
distant  from  him.  She  spelled  his  name  repeatedly  and  started 
in  the  direction  in  which  he  was  coming. 

When  walking  or  riding  she  often  gives  the  names  of  the 
people  we  meet  almost  as  soon  as  we  recognize  them. 


The  letters  take  up  the  account  again. 


November  13,  1887. 

We  took  Helen  to  the  circus,  and  had  "the  time  of  our  lives"! 
The  circus  people  were  much  interested  in  Helen,  and  did  every 
thing  they  could  to  make  her  first  circus  a  memorable  event. 
They  let  her  feel  the  animals  whenever  it  was  safe.  She  fed  the 
elephants,  and  was  allowed  to  climb  up  on  the  back  of  the 
largest,  and  sit  in  the  lap  of  the  "Oriental  Princess,"  while  the 
elephant  marched  majestically  around  the  ring.  She  felt  some 
young  lions.  They  were  as  gentle  as  kittens;  but  J  told  her  they 
would  get  wild  and  fierce  as  they  grew  older.  She  said  to  the 
keeper,  "I  will  take  the  baby  lions  home  and  teach  them  to  be 
mild."  The  keeper  of  the  bears  made  one  big  black  fellow  stand 
on  his  hind  legs  and  hold  out  his  great  paw  to  us,  which  Helen 
shook  politely.  She  was  greatly  delighted  with  the  monkeys  and 
kept  her  hand  on  the  star  performer  while  he  went  through 
his  tricks,  and  laughed  heartily  when  he  took  off  his  hat  to 
the  audience.  One  cute  little  fellow  stole  her  hair-ribbon,  and 
another  tried  to  snatch  the  flowers  out  of  her  hat.  I  don't  know 
who  had  the  best  time,  the  monkeys,  Helen  or  the  spectators. 


EDUCATION  341 

One  of  the  leopards  licked  her  hands,  and  the  man  in  charge  of 
the  giraffes  lifted  her  up  in  his  arms  so  that  she  could  feel  their 
ears  and  see  how  tall  they  were.  She  also  felt  a  Greek  chariot, 
and  the  charioteer  would  have  liked  to  take  her  round  the  ring; 
but  she  was  afraid  of  "many  swift  horses."  The  riders  and 
clowns  and  rope-walkers  were  all  glad  to  let  the  little  blind  girl 
feel  their  costumes  and  follow  their  motions  whenever  it  was 
possible,  and  she  kissed  them  all,  to  show  her  gratitude.  Some 
of  them  cried,  and  the  wild  man  of  Borneo  shrank  from  her 
sweet  little  face  in  terror.  She  has  talked  about  nothing  but  the 
circus  ever  since.  In  order  to  answer  her  questions,  I  have  been 
obliged  to  read  a  great  deal  about  animals.  At  present  I  feel 
like  a  jungle  on  wheels  ! 


December  12,  1887. 

I  find  it  hard  to  realize  that  Christmas  is  almost  here,  in  spite 
of  the  fact  that  Helen  talks  about  nothing  else.  Do  you 
remember  what  a  happy  time  we  had  last  Christmas  ? 

Helen  has  learned  to  tell  the  time  at  last,  and  her  father  is 
going  to  give  her  a  watch  for  Christmas. 

Helen  is  as  eager  to  have  stories  told  her  as  any  hearing  child 
I  ever  knew.  She  has  made  me  repeat  the  story  of  little  Red 
Riding  Hood  so  often  that  I  believe  I  could  say  it  backward. 
She  likes  stories  that  make  her  cry — I  think  we  all  do,  it's  so 
nice  to  feel  sad  when  you've  nothing  particular  to  be  sad  about. 
I  am  teaching  her  little  rhymes  and  verses,  too.  They  fix 
beautiful  thoughts  in  her  memory.  I  think,  too,  that  they 
quicken  all  the  child's  faculties,  because  they  stimulate  the 
imagination.  Of  course  I  don'c  try  to  explain  everything.  If 
I  did,  there  would  be  no  opportunity  for  the  play  of  fancy. 
Too  much  explanation  directs  the  child's  attention  to  words  and 
.sentences,  so  that  he  jails  to  get  the  thought  as  a  whole.  I  do  not 
think  any  one  can  read,  or  talk  for  that  matter,  until  he  forgets 
words  and  sentences  in  the  technical  sense. 


January  i,  1888. 

It  is  a  great  thing  to  feel  that  you  are  of  some  use  in  the  world, 
that  you  are  necessary  to  somebody.  Helen's  dependence  on 
me  for  almost  everything  makes  me  strong  and  glad. 


342         A  SUPPLEMENTARY  ACCOUNT 

Christmas  week  was  a  very  busy  one  here,  too.  Helen  is 
invited  to  all  the  children's  entertainments,  and  I  take  her  to 
as  many  as  I  can.  I  want  her  to  know  children  and  to  be  with 
them  as  much  as  possible.  Several  little  girls  have  learned  to 
spell  on  their  fingers  and  are  very  proud  of  the  accomplishment. 
One  little  chap,  about  seven,  was  persuaded  to  learn  the  letters, 
and  he  spelled  his  name  for  Helen.  She  was  delighted,  and 
showed  her  joy,  by  hugging  and  kissing  him,  much  to  his 
embarrassment. 

Saturday  the  school-children  had  their  tree,  and  I  took  Helen. 
It  was  the  first  Christmas  tree  she  had  ever  seen,  and  she  was 
puzzled,  and  asked  many  questions.  "Who  made  tree  grow 
in  house?  Why?  Who  put  many  things  on  tree?"  She 
objected  to  its  miscellaneous  fruits  and  began  to  remove  them, 
evidently  thinking  they  were  all  meant  for  her.  It  was  not 
difficult,  however,  to  make  her  understand  that  there  was  a 
present  for  each  child,  and  to  her  great  delight  she  was  per 
mitted  to  hand  the  gifts  to  the  children.  There  were  several 
presents  for  herself.  She  placed  them  in  a  chair,  resisting  all 
temptation  to  look  at  them  until  every  child  had  received  his 
gifts.  One  little  girl  had  fewer  presents  than  the  rest,  and 
Helen  insisted  on  sharing  her  gifts  with  her.  It  was  very  sweet 
to  see  the  children's  eager  interest  in  Helen,  and  their  readiness 
to  give  her  pleasure.  The  exercises  began  at)  nine,  and  it  was 
one  o'clock  before  we  could  leave.  My  fingers  and  head  ached; 
but  Helen  was  as  fresh  and  full  of  spirit  as  when  we  left  home. 
'  After  dinner  it  began  to  snow,  and  we  had  a  good  frolic  and 
an  interesting  lesson  about  the  snow.  Sunday  morning  the 
ground  was  covered,  and  Helen  and  the  cook's  children  and  I 
played  snowball.  By  noon  the  snow  was-  all  gone.  It  was  the 
first  snow  I  had  seen  here,  and  it  made  me  a  little  homesick. 
The  Christmas  season  .has  furnished  many  lessons,  and  added 
scores  of  new  words  to  Helen's  vocabulary. 

*  For  weeks  we  did  nothing  but  talk  and  read  and  tell  each 
other  stories  about  Christmas.  Of  course  I  do  not  try  to-  explain 
all  the  new  words,  nor  does  Helen  fully  understand  the  little 
stories  I  tell  her;  but  constant  repetition  fixes  the  words  and 
phrases  in  the  mind,  and  little  by  little  the  meaning  will  come 
to  her.  I  see  no  sense  in  "faking"  conversation  for  the  sake  of 
teaching  language.  It's  stupid  and  deadening  to  pupil  and  teacher. 


EDUCATION"  343 

ideas.  If  there  is  nothing  in  the  child's  mind  to  communicate, 
it  hardly  seems  worth  while  to  require  him  to  write  on  the 
blackboard,  or  spell  on  his  fingers,  cut  and  dried  sentences  about 
"the  cat,"  "the  bird,"  "a  dog."  I  have  tried  from  the  beginning 
to  talk  naturally  to  Helen  and  to  teach  her  to  tell  me  only  things 
that  interest  her  and  ask  questions  only  for  the  sake  of  finding  out 
what  she  wants  to  know.  "When  I  see  that  she  is  eager  to  tell 
me  something,  but  is  hampered  because  she  does  not  know  the 
words,  I  supply  them  and  the  necessary  idioms,  and  we  get 
ilong  finely.  The  child's  eagerness  and  interest  carry  her  over 
.many  obstacles  that  would  be  our  undoing  if  we  stopped  to 
define  and  explain  everything.  What  would  happen,  do  you 
fchink,  if  some  one  should  try  to  measure  our  intelligence  by 
z>ur  ability  to  define  the  commonest  words  we  use  ?  I  fear 
me,  if  I  were  put  to  such  a  test,  I  should  be  consigned  to  the 
primary  class  in  a  school  for  the  feeble-minded. 

It  was  touching  and  beautiful  to  see  Helen  enjoy  her  first 
Christmas.  Of  course^  she  hung  her  stocking — two  of  them, 
lest  Santa  Claus  should  forget  one,  and  she  lay  awake  for  a  long 
time  and  got  up  two  or  three  times  to  see  if  anything  had  hap 
pened.  When  I  told  her  that  Santa  Claus  would  not  come 
until  she  was  asleep,  she  shut  her  eyes  and  said,  "He  will  think 
girl  is  asleep."  She  was  awake  the  first  thing  in  the  morning, 
and  ran  to  the  fireplace  for  her  stocking;  and  when  she  found 
that  Santa  Claus  had  filled  both  stockings,  she  danced  about 
for  a  minute,  then  grew  very  quiet,  and  came  to  ask  me  if  I 
thought  Santa  Claus  had  made  a  mistake,  and  thought  there 
were  two  little  girls,  and  would  come  back  for  the  gifts  when  he 
discovered  his  mistake.  The  ring  you  sent  her  was  in  the  toe 
of  the  stocking,  and  when  I  told  her  you  gave  it  to  Santa  Claus 
for  her,  she  said,  "I  do  love  Mrs.  Hopkins."  She  had  a  trunk 
and  clothes  for  Nancy,  and  her  comment  was,  "Now  Nancy 
will  go  to  party."  When  she  saw  the  braille  slate  and  paper, 
she  said,  "I  will  write  many  letters,  and  I  will  thank  Santa 
Claus  very  much."  It  was  evident  that  every  one,  especially 
Captain  and  Mrs.  Keller,  was  deeply  moved  at  the  thought 
of  the  difference  between  this  bright  Christmas  and  the  last, 
when  their  little  girl  had  no  conscious  part  in  the  Christmas 
testivities.  As  we  came  downstairs,  Mrs.  Keller  said  to  me 
with  tears  in  her  eyes,  "Miss  Annie,  I  thank  God  every  day 
of  my  life  for  sending  you  to  u«:  but  I  never  realized  until  this 


344      A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 

morning  what  a  blessing  you  have  been  to  us."*"  Captain  Keller 
took  my  hand,  but  could  not  speak.  But  his  silence  was  mor* 
eloquent  than  words.  My  heart,  too,  was  full  of  gratitude 
and  solemn  joy. 

The  other  day  Helen  came  across  the  word  grandfather  in  a 
little  story  and  asked  her  mother,  *' Where  is  grandfather?" 
meaning  her  grandfather.  Mrs.  Keller  replied,  "He  is  dead/" 
"Did  father  shoot  him?"  Helen  asked,  and  added,  "I  will  eat 
grandfather  for  dinner."  So  far,  her  only  knowledge  of  death 
is  in  connection  with  things  to  eat.  She  knows  that  her  lather 
shoots  partridges  and  deer  and  other  game. 

This  morning  she  asked  me  the  meaning  of  "carpenter,"  and 
the  question  furnished  the  text  for  the  day's  lesson.  After 
talking  about  the  various  things  that  carpenters  make,  she 
asked  me,  "Did  carpenter  make  me  ?"  and  before  I  could  answer, 
she  spelled  quickly,  "No,  no,  photographer  made  me  in  Sheffield." 

One  of  the  great  iron  furnaces  has  been  started  in  Sheffield, 
and  we  went  over  the  other  evening  to  see  them  make  a  "run.*' 
Helen  felt  the  heat  and  asked,  "Did  the  sun  fall?" 


January  9,   1888, 

The  report  came  last  night.  I  appreciate  the  kind  things 
Mr.  Anagnos  has  said  about  Helen  and  me ;  but  his  extravagant 
way  of  saying  them  rubs  me  the  wrong  way.  The  simple 
facts  would  be  so  much  more  convincing !  Why,  for  instance, 
does  he  take  the  trouble  to  ascribe  motives  to  me  that  I  never 
dreamed  of  ?  You  know,  and  he  knows,  and  I  know,  that  my 
motive  in  coming  here  was  not  in  any  sense  philanthropic 
How  ridiculous  it  is  to  say  I  had  drunk  so  copiously  of  the 
noble  spirit  of  Dr.  Howe  that  I  was  fired  with  the  desire  to 
rescue  from  darkness  and  obscurity  the  little  Alabamian !  I 
came  here  simply  because  circumstances  made  it  necessary  for 
me  to  earn  my  living,  and  I  seized  upon  the  first  opportunity 
that  offered  itself,  although  I  did  not  suspect,  nor  did  he,  that 
I  had  any  special  fitness  for  the  work. 


January  26,  1888, 

I  suppose  you  got  Helen's  letter.     The  little  rascal  has  taken 
it  into  her  head  not  to  write  with  a  pencil.     I  wanted  her  to  writ** 


EDUCATION  345 

to  her  Uncle  Frank  this  morning,  but  she  objected.  She  said: 
"Pencil  is  very  tired  in  head.  I  will  write  Uncle  Frank  braille 
letter."  I  said,  "But  Uncle  Frank  cannot  read  braille/'  "I 
will  teach  him,"  she  said.  I  explained  that  Uncle  Frank  was 
old,  and  couldn't  learn  braille  easily.  In  a  flash  she  answered, 
"I  think  Uncle  Frank  is  much  (too)  old  to  read  very  small 
letters."  Finally  I  persuaded  her  to  write  a  few  lines;  but  she 
broke  her  pencil  six  times  before  she  finished  it.  I  said  to  her, 
"You  are  a  naughty  girl."  "No,"  she  replied,  "pencil  is  very 
weak."  I  think  her  objection  to  pencil-writing  is  readily 
accounted  for  by  the  fact  that  she  has  been  asked  to  write  so 
many  specimens  for  friends  and  strangers.  You  know  how 
the  children  at  the  Institution  detest  it.  It  is  irksome  because 
the  process  is  so  slow,  and  they  cannot  read  what  they  have 
written  or  correct  their  mistakes. 

Helen  is  more  and  more  interested  in  colour.  When  I  told  I 
her  that  Mildred's  eyes  were  blue,  she  asked,  "Are  they  like  wee  ' 
skies?"  A  little  while  after  I  had  told  her  that  a  carnation 
that  had  been  given  her  was  red,  she  puckered  up  her  mouth, 
and  said,  "Lips  are  like  one  pink."  I  told  her  they  were  tulips; 
but  of  course  she  didn't  understand  the  word-play.  I  can't 
believe  that  the  colour-impressions  she  received  during  the  year 
and  a  half  she  could  see  and  hear  are  entirely  lost.  Everything 
we  have  seen  and  heard  is  in  the  mind  somewhere.  It  may  be 
too  vague  and  confused  to  be  recognizable,  but  it  is  there  all  the 
same,  like  the  landscape  we  lose  in  the  deepening  twilight. 


February  10,  1888. 

/We  got  home  last  night.  We  had  a  splendid  time  in  Memphis, 
but  I  didn't  rest  much.  It  was  nothing  but  excitement  from 
first  to  last — drives,  luncheons,  receptions,  and  all  that  they 
involve  when  you  have  an  eager,  tireless  child  like  Helen  on 
your  hands.  She  talked  incessantly.  I  don't  know  what  I 
should  have  done,  had  some  of  the  young  people  not  learned  to 
talk  with  her.  They  relieved  me  as  much  as  possible.  But  even 
then  I  can  never  have  a  quiet  half  hour  to  myself.  It  is  always: 
"Oh,  Miss  Sullivan,  please  come  and  tell  us  what  Helen  means," 
or  "Miss  Sullivan,  won't  you  please  explain  this  to  Helen?  We 
can't  make  her  understand."  I  believe  half  the  white  popula 
tion  of  Memphis  called  on  us.  Helen  was  petted  and  caressed 


346      A  SUPPLEMENTARY  ACCOUNT 

enough  to  spoil  an  angel;  but  I  do  not  think  it  is  possible  to  spoil 
her,  she  is  too  unconscious  of  herself,  and  too  loving. 

The  stores  in  Memphis  are  very  good,  and  I  managed  to  spend 
all  the  money  that  I  had  with  me.  One  day  Helen  said,  "I 
must  buy  Nancy  a  very  pretty  hat."  I  said,  "Very  well,  we 
will  go  shopping  this  afternoon."  She  had  a  silver  dollar  and 
a  dime.  When  we  reached  the  shop,  I  asked  her  how  much  she 
would  pay  for  Nancy's  hat.  She  answered  promptly,  "I  will 
pay  ten  cents."  "What  will  you  do  with  the  dollar?"  I  asked. 
"I  will  buy  some  good  candy  to  take  to  Tuscumbia,"  was  her 
reply. 

We  visited  the  Stock  Exchange  and  a  steamboat.  Helen  was 
greatly  interested  in  the  boat,  and  insisted  on  being  shown 
every  inch  of  it  from  the  engine  to  the  flag  on  the  flagstaff.  I 
was  gratified  to  read  what  the  Nation  had  to  say  about  Helen 
last  week. 

Captain  Keller  has  had  two  interesting  letters  since  the  publi 
cation  of  the  "Report,"  one  from  Dr.  Alexander  Graham 
Bell,  and  the  other  from  Dr.  Edward  Everett  Hale.  Dr.  Hale 
claims  kinship  with  Helen,  and  seems  very  proud  of  his 
little  cousin.  Dr.  Bell  writes  that  Helen's  progress  is  without 
a  parallel  in  the  education  of  the  deaf,  or  something  like  that 
and  he  says  many  nice  things  about  her  teacher. 


March  5,  1888. 

I  did  not  have  a  chance  to  finish  my  letter  yesterday.  Miss 
Ev.  came  up  to  help  me  make  a  list  of  words  Helen  has  learned. 
We  have  got  as  far  as  P,  and  there  are  900  words  to  her  credit. 
I  had  Helen  begin  a  journal*  March  1st.  I  don't  know  how  long 
.she  will  keep  it  up.  It's 'rather  stupid  business,  I  think.  Just 
now  she  finds  it  great  fun.  She  seems  to  like  to  tell  all  she 
knows.  This  is  what  Helen  wrote  Sunday: 

"I  got  up,  washed  my  face  and  hands,  combed  my  hair,  picked 
three  dew  violets  for  Teacher  and  ate  my  breakfast.  After 
breakfast  I  played  with  dolls  short.  Nancy  was  cross.  Cross 
is  cry  and  kick.  I  read  in  my  book  about  large,  fierc6  animals. 
Fierce  is  much  cross  and  strong  and  very  hungry.  I  do  not 

*Most  of  this  journal  was  lost.  Fortunately,  however,  Helen  Keller  wrote 
so  many  letters  and  exercises  that  there  is  no  lack  of  records  of  that  sort. 


EDUCATION  r  347 

i 

love  fierce  animals.  I  wrote  letter  to  Uncle  James.  He  lives 
in  Hotsprings.  He  is  doctor.  Doctor  makes  sick  girl  well.  I 
do  not  like  sick.  Then  I  ate  my  dinner.  I  like  much  icecream 
very  much.  After  dinner  father  went  to  Birmingham  on  train 
far  away.  I  had  letter  from  Robert.  He  loves  me.  He  said 
Dear  Helen,  Robert  was  glad  to  get  a  letter  from  dear,  sweet 
little  Helen.  I  will  come  to  see  you  when  the  sun  shines.  Mrs. 
Newsum  is  Robert's  wife.  Robert  is  her  husband.  Robert 
and  I  will  run  and  jump  and  hop  and  dance  and  swing  and 
talk  about  birds  and  flowers  and  trees  and  grass  and  Jumbo  and 
Pearl  will  go  with  us.  Teacher  will  say,  We  are  silly.  She  is 
funny.  Funny  makes  us  laugh.  Natalie  is  a  good  girl  and  does 
not  cry.  Mildred  does  cry.  She  will  be  a  nice  girl  in  many  days 
and  run  and  play  with  me.  Mrs.  Graves  is  making  short  dresses 
for  Natalie.  Mr.  Mayo  went  to  Duckhill  and  brought  home 
many  sweet  flowers.  Mr.  Mayo  and  Mr.  Farris  and  Mr.  Graves 
love  me  and  Teacher.  I  am  going  to  Memphis  to  see  them  soon, 
and  they  will  hug  and  kiss  me.  Thornton  goes  to  school  and 
gets  his  face  dirty.  Boy  must  be  very  careful.  After  supper  I 
played  romp  with  Teacher  in  bed.  She  buried  me  under  the 
pillows  and  then  I  grew  very  slow  like  tree  out  of  ground. 
Now,  I  will  go  to  bed.  HELEN  KELLER." 


April  16,  1888. 

We  are  just  back  from  church.  Captain  Keller  said  at  break 
fast  this  morning  that  he  wished  I  would  take  Helen  to  church. 
The  Presbytery  would  be  there  in  a  body,  and  he  wanted 
the  ministers  to  see  Helen.  The  Sunday-school  was  in  session 
when  we  arrived,  and  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  the  sensation 
Helen's  entrance  caused.  The  children  were  so  pleased  to  see 
her  at  Sunday-school,  they  paid  no  attention  to  their  teachers, 
but  rushed  out  of  their  seats  and  surrounded  us.  She  kissed 
them  all,  boys  and  girls,  willing  or  unwilling.  She  seemed  to 
think  at  first  that  the  children  all  belonged  to  the  visiting 
ministers;  but  soon  she  recognized  some  little  friends  among 
them,  and  I  told  her  the  ministers  didn't  bring  their  children 
with  them.  She  looked  disappointed  and  said,  "I'll  send  them 
many  kisses."  One  of  the  ministers  wished  me  to  ask  Helen, 
"What  do  ministers  do?"  She  said,  "They  read  and  talk  loud 
to  people  to  be  good."  He  put  her  answer  down  in  his  note 


348      A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 

book.  When  it  was  time  for  the  church  service  to  begin,  she 
was  in  such  a  state  of  excitement  that  I  thought  it  best  to  take 
her  away;  but  Captain  Keller  said,  "No,  she  will  be  all  right." 
So  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  stay.  It  was  impossible  to  keep 
Helen  quiet.  She  hugged  and  kissed  me,  and  the  quiet-looking 
divine  who  sat  on  the  other  side  of  her.  He  gave  her  his  watch 
to  play  with ;  but  that  didn't  keep  her  still.  She  wanted  to  show 
it  to  the  little  boy  in  the  seat  behind  us.  When  the  communion 
service  began,  she  smelt  the  wine,  and  sniffed  so  loud  that  every 
one  in  the  church  could  hear.  When  the  wine  was  passed  to  our 
neighbour,  he  was  obliged  to  stand  up  to  prevent  her  taking  it 
away  from  him.  I  never  was  so  glad  to  get  out  of  a  place  as  I 
was  to  leave  that  church  !  I  tried  to  hurry  Helen  out-of-doors, 
but  she  kept  her  arm  extended,  and  every  coat-tail  she  touched 
must  needs  turn  round  and  give  an  account  of  the  children 
he  left  at  home,  and  receive  kisses  according  to  their  number, 
Everybody  laughed  at  her  antics,  and  you  would  have  thought 
they  were  leaving  a  place  of  amusement  rather  than  a  church. 
Captain  Keller  invited  some  of  the  ministers  to  dinner.  Helen 
was  irrepressible.  She  described  in  the  most  animated  panto 
mime,  supplemented  by  spelling,  what  she  was  going  to  do  in 
Brewster.  Finally  she  got  up  from  the  table  and  went  through 
the  motion  of  picking  seaweed  and  shells,  and  splashing  in  the 
water,  holding  up  her  skirts  higher  than  was  proper  under  the 
circumstances.  Then  she  threw  herself  on  the  floor  and  began 
to  swim  so  energetically  that  some  of  us  thought  we  should  be 
kicked  out  of  our  chairs  !  Her  m  otions  are  often  more  expressive 
than  any  words,  and  she  is  as  graceful  as  a  nymph. 

I  wonder  if  the  days  seem  as  interminable  to  you  as  they  do 
to  me.  We  talk  and  plan  and  dream  about  nothing  but  Boston, 
Boston,  Boston.  I  think  Mrs.  Keller  has  definitely  decided  to 
go  with  us,  but  she  will  not  stay  all  summer. 


May  15,  1888. 

Do  you  realize  that  this  is  the  last  letter  I  shall  write  to  you 
for  a  long,  long  time  ?  The  next  word  that  you  receive  from 
me  will  be  in  a  yellow  envelope,  and  it  will  tell  you  when  we 
shall  reach  Boston.  I  am  too  happy  to  write  letters;  but  I 
must  tell  you  about  our  visit  to  Cincinnati. 

We  spent  a  delightful  week  with  the  "doctors."     Dr.  Keller 


EDUCATION  349 

met  us  in  Memphis.  Almost  every  one  on  the  train  was  a 
physician,  and  Dr.  Keller  seemed  to  know  them  all.  When 
we  reached  Cincinnati,  we  found  the  place  full  of  doctors. 
There  were  several  prominent  Boston  physicians  among  them. 
We  stayed  at  the  Burnet  House.  Everybody  was  delighted 
with  Helen.  All  the  learned  men  marveled  at  her  intelligence 
and  gaiety.  There  is  something  about  her  that  attracts  people. 
I  think  it  is  her  joyous  interest  in  everything  and  everybody. 

Wherever  she  went  she  was  the  centre  of  interest.  She  was 
delighted  with  the  orchestra  at  the  hotel,  and  whenever  the 
music  began  she  danced  round  the  room,  hugging  and  kissing 
every  one  she  happened  to  touch.  Her  happiness  impressed 
all;  nobody  seemed  to  pity  her.  One  gentleman  said  to  Dr. 
Keller,  "I  have  lived  long  and  seen  many  happy  faces;  but  I 
have  never  seen  such  a  radiant  face  as  this  child's  before 
to-night."  Another  said,  "Damn  me  !  but  I'd  give  everything 
I  own  in  the  world  to  have  that  little  girl  always  near  me." 
But  I  haven't  time  to  write  all  the  pleasant  things  people  said — 
they  would  make  a  very  large  book,  and  the  kind  things  they 
did  for  us  would  fill  another  volume.  Dr.  Keller  distributed 
the  extracts  from  the  report  that  Mr.  Anagnos  sent  me,  and  he 
could  have  disposed  of  a  thousand  if  he  had  had  them.  Do  you 
remember  Dr.  Garcelon,  who  was  Governor  of  Maine  several 
years  ago?  He  took  us  to  drive  one  afternoon,  and  wanted  to 
give  Helen  a  doll;  but  she  said:  "  I  do  not  like  too  many  children, 
Nancy  is  sick,  and  Adeline  is  cross,  and  Ida  is  very  bad."  We 
laughed  until  we  cried,  she  was  so  serious  about  it.  "What 
would  you  like,  then?"  asked  the  Doctor.  "Some  beautiful 
gloves  to  talk  with,"  she  answered.  The  Doctor  was  puzzled. 
He  had  never  heard  of  "talking-gloves";  but  I  explained  that 
she  had  seen  a  glove  on  which  the  alphabet  was  printed,  and 
evidently  thought  they  could  be  bought.  I  told  him  he  could 
buy  some  gloves  if  he  wished,  and  that  I  would  have  the  alphabet 
Stamped  on  them. 

We  lunched  with  Mr.  Thayer  (your  former  pastor)  and  his 
wife.  He  asked  me  how  I  had  taught  Helen  adjectives  and  the 
names  of  abstract  ideas  like  goodness  and  happiness.  These 
same  questions  had  been  asked  me  a  hundred  times  by  the 
learned  doctors.  It  seems  strange  that  people  should  marvel  at 
what  is  really  so  simple.  Why,  it  is  as  easy  to  teach  the  name  of 
an  idea,  if  it  is  clearly  formulated  in  the  child's  mind,  as  to  teach 


350 


A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 


the  name  of  an  object.  It  would  indeed  be  a  herculean  task  to 
teach  the  words  if  the  ideas  did  not  already  exist  in  the  child's 
mind.  If  his  experiences  and  observations  hadn't  led  him  to 
the  concepts,  small,  large,  good,  bad,  sweet,  sour,  he  would  have 
nothing  to  attach  the  word-tags  to. 

I,  little  ignorant  I,  found  myself  explaining  to  the  wise  men  of 
the  East  and  the  West  such  simple  things  as  these:  If  you  give 
a  child  something  sweet,  and  he  wags  his  tongue  and  smacks  his 
lips  and  looks  pleased,  he  has  a  very  definite  sensation;  and  if, 
every  time  he  has  this  experience,  he  hears  the  word  sweet, 
or  has  it  spelled  into  his  hand,  he  will  quickly  adopt  this  arbi 
trary  sign  for  his  sensation.  Likewise,  if  you  put  a  bit  of  lemon 
on  his  tongue,  he  puckers  up  his  lips  and  tries  to  spit  it  out;  and 
after  he  has  had  this  experience  a  few  times,  if  you  offer  him  a 
lemon,  he  shuts  his  mouth  and  makes  faces,  clearly  indicating 
that  he  remembers  the  unpleasant  sensation.  You  label  it 
sour,  and  he  adopts  >our  symbol.  If  you  had  called  these 
sensations  respectively  black  and  white,  he  would  have  adopted 
them  as  readily;  but  he  would  mean  by  black  and  white  the 
same  things  that  he  means  by  sweet  and  sour.  In  the  same  way 
the  child  learns  from  many  experiences  to  differentiate  his 
feelings,  and  we  name  them  for  him — good,  bad,  gentle,  rough, 
happy,  sad.  It  is  not  the  word,  but  the  capacity  to  experience 
the  sensation  that  counts  in  his  education. 


This  extract  from  one  of  Miss  Sullivan's  letters  is  added 
because  it  contains  interesting  casual  opinions  stimulated  by 
observing  the  methods  of  others. 


We  visited  a  little  school  for  the  deaf.  We  were  very  kindly 
received,  and  Helen  enjoyed  meeting  the  children.  Two  of  the 
teachers  knew  the  manual  alphabet,  and  talked  to  her  without 
an  interpreter.  They  were  astonished  at  her  command  of 
language.  Not  a  child  in  the  school,  they  said,  had  anything  like 
Helen's  facility  of  expression,  and  some  of  them  had  been  under 
instruction  for  two  or  three  years.  I  was  incredulous  at  first; 
but  after  I  had  watched  the  children  at  work  for  a  counte  a' 


EDUCATION  351 

hours,  I  knew  that  what  I  had  been  told  was  true,  and  I  wasn't 
surprised.  In  one  room  some  little  tots  were  standing  before 
the  blackboard,  painfully  constructing  "simple  sentences."  A 
little  girl  had  written:  "  I  have  a  new  dress.  It  is  a  pretty  dress. 
My  mamma  made  my  pretty  new  dress.  I  love  mamma."  A 
curly-headed  little  boy  was  writing:  "I  have  a  large  ball.  I  like 
to  kick  my  large  ball."  When  we  entered  the  room,  the 
children's  attention  was  riveted  on  Helen.  One  of  them  pulled 
me  by  the  sleeve  and  said,  "Girl  is  blind."  The  teacher  was 
writing  on  the  blackboard:  "The  girl's  name  is  Helen.  She  is 
deaf.  She  cannot  see.  We  are  very  sorry."  I  said:  "Why 
do  you  write  those  sentences  on  the  board  ?  Wouldn't  the 
children  understand  if  you  talked  to  them  about  Helen?" 
The  teacher  said  something  about  getting  the  correct  construc 
tion,  and  continued  to  construct  an  exercise  out  of  Helen. 
I  asked  her  if  the  little  girl  who  had  written  about  the 
new  dress  was  particularly  pleased  with  her  dress.  "No,"  she 
replied,  "I  think  not;  but  children  learn  better  if  they  write 
about  things  that  concern  them  personally."  It  seemed  all  so 
mechanical  and  difficult,  my  heart  ached  for  the  poor  little 
children.  Nobody  thinks  of  making  a  hearing  child  say,  "I 
have  a  pretty  new  dress, "  at  the  beginning.  These  children 
were  older  in  years,  it  is  true,  than  the  baby  who  lisps,  "Papa 
kiss  baby — pretty,"  and  fills  out  her  meaning  by  pointing  to  her 
new  dress;  but  their  ability  to  understand  and  use  language 
was  no  greater. 

There  was  the  same  difficulty  throughout  the  school.  In 
every  classroom  I  saw  sentences  on  the  blackboard,  which 
evidently  had  been  written  to  illustrate  some  grammatical  rule, 
or  for  the  purpose  of  using  words  that  had  previously  been 
taught  in  the  same,  or  in  some  other  connection.  This  sort  of 
thing  may  be  necessary  in  some  stages  of  education;  but  it  isn't 
the  way  to  acquire  language.  Nothing,  I  think,  crushes  the 
child's  -impulse  to  talk  naturally  more  effectually  than  these  black* 
board  exercises.  The  schoolroom  is  not  the  place  to  teach  any 
young  child  language,  least  of  all  the  deaf  child.  He  must  be 
kept  as  unconscious  as  the  hearing  child  of  the  fact  that  he  is 
learning  words,  and  he  should  be  allowed  to  prattle  on  his  fingers, 
or  with  his  pencil,  in  'monosyllables  if  he  chooses,  until  such  time 
as  his  growing  intelligence  demands  the  sentence.  Language 
should  not  be  associated  in  his  mind  with  endless  hours  in  school* 


352      A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 

with  puzzling  questions  in  grammar,  or  with  anything  that  is  az? 
enemy  to  joy.  But  I  must  not  get  into  the  habit  of  criticizing 
other  people's  methods  too  severely.  I  may  be  as  far  from  th* 
straight  road  as  they. 


Miss  Sullivan*  s  second  report  brings  the  account  down  to 
October  ist,  1888. 


During  the  past  year  Helen  has  enjoyed  excellent  health. 
Her  eyes  and  ears  have  been  examined  by  specialists,  and  it  is 
their  opinion  that  she  cannot  have  the  slightest  perception  of 
either  light  or  sound. 

It  is  impossible  to  tell  exactly  to  what  extent  the  senses  of 
smell  and  taste  aid  her  in  gaining  information  respecting  physical 
qualities;  but,  according  to  eminent  authority,  these  senses  do 
exert  a  great  influence  on  the  mental  and  moral  development. 
Dugald  Stewart  says,  "Some  of  the  most  significant  words 
relating  to  the  human  mind  are  borrowed  from  the  sense  of 
smell;  and  the  conspicuous  place  which  its  sensations  occupy 
in  the  poetical  language  of  all  nations  shows  how  easily  and 
naturally  they  ally  themselves  with  the  refined  operations  of  the 
fancy  and  the  moral  emotions  of  the  heart."  Helen  certainly 
derives  great  pleasure  from  the  exercise  of  these  senses.  On 
entering  a  greenhouse  her  countenance  becomes  radiant,  and 
she  will  tell  the  names  of  the  flowers  with  which  she  is  familiar, 
by  the  sense  of  smell  alone.  Her  recollections  of  the  sensations 
of  smell  are  very  vivid.  She  enjoys  in  anticipation  the  scent  of 
a  rose  or  a  violet;  and  if  she  is  promised  a  bouquet  of  these 
flowers,  a  peculiarly  happy  expression  lights  her  face,  indicating,' 
that  in  imagination  she  perceives  their  fragrance,  and  that  it  is 
pleasant  to  her.  It  frequently  happens  that  the  perfume  of  a 
flower  or  the  flavour  of  a  fruit  recalls  to  her  mind  some  happy 
event  in  home  life,  or  a  delightful  birthday  party. 

Her  sense  of  touch  has  sensibly  increased  during  the  year, 
and  has  gained  in  acuteness  and  delicacy.  Indeed,  her  whole 
body  is  so  finely  organized  that  she  seems  to  use  it  as  a  medium 
for  bringing  herself  into  closer  relations  with  her  fellow  creatures, 


r  EDUCATION  353 


She  is  able  not  only  to  distinguish  with  great  accuracy  the 
•different  undulations  of  the  air  and  the  vibrations  of  the  floor 
made  by  various  sounds  and  motions,  and  to  recognize  her 
friends  and  acquaintances  the  instant  she  touches  their  hands 
or  clothing,  but  she  also  perceives  the  state  of  mind  of  those 
around  her.  It  is  impossible  for  any  one  with  whom  Helen  is 
conversing  to  be  particularly  happy  or  sad,  and  withhold 
the  knowledge  of  this  fact  from  her. 

Slie  observes  the  slightest  emphasis  placed  upon  a  word  in 
conversation,  and  she  discovers  meaning  in  every  change  of 
position,  and  in  the  varied  play  of  the  muscles  of  the  hand- 
She  responds  quickly  to  the  gentle  pressure  of  affection,  the 
pat  of  approval,  the  jerk  of  impatience,  the  firm  motion  of 
command,  and  to  the  many  other  variations  of  the  almost 
infinite  language  of  the  feelings;  and  she  has  become  so  expert 
in  interpreting  this  unconscious  language  of  the  emotions  that 
she  is  often  able  to  divine  our  very  thoughts. 

In  my  account  of  Helen  last  year,*  I  mentioned  several 
instances  where  she  seemed  to  have  called  into  use  an 
inexplicable  mental  faculty;  but  it  now  seems  to  me,  after 
carefully  considering  the  matter,  that  this  power  may  be 
explained  by  her  perfect  familiarity  with  the  muscular  varia 
tions  of  those  with  whom  she  comes  into  contact,  caused  by 
their  emotions.  She  has  been  forced  to  depend  largely  upon 
this  muscular  sense  as  a  means  of  ascertaining  the  mental 
condition  of  those  about  her.  She  has  learned  to  connect 
certain  movements  of  the  body  with  anger,  others  with  joy, 
and  others  still  with  sorrow.  One  day,  while  she  was  walking 
out  with  her  mother  and  Mr.  Anagnos,  a  boy  threw  a  torpedo,  » 
which  startled  Mrs.  Keller.  Helen  felt  the  change  in  her  mother's 
movements  instantly,  and  asked,  "What  are  we  afraid  of?" 
On  one  occasion,  while  walking  on  the  Common  with  her,  I  saw 
a  police  officer  taking  a  man  to  the  station-house.  The  agita 
tion  which  I  felt  evidently  produced  a  perceptible  physical  » 
change;  for  Helen  asked,  excitedly,  "What  do  you  see?" 

A  striking  illustration  of  this  strange  power  was  recently 
shown  while  her  ears  were  being  examined  by  the  aurists  in 
Cincinnati.  Several  experiments  were  tried,  to  determine 
positively  whether  or  not  she  had  any  perception  of  sound, 

*See  Perkins  Institution  Report  for  1887,  page  105. 


354      A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 

All  present  were  astonished  when  she  appeared  not  only  to 
hear  a  whistle,  but  also  an  ordinary  tone  of  voice.  She  would 
turn  her  head,  smile,  and  act  as  though  she  had  heard  what 
was  said.  I  was  then  standing  beside  her,  holding  her  hand. 
Thinking  that  she  was  receiving  impressions  from  me,  I  put 
her  hands  upon  the  table,  and  withdrew  to  the  opposite  side  of 
the  room.  The  aurists  then  tried  their  experiments  with  quite 
different  results.  Helen  remained  motionless  through  them 
all,  not  once  showing  the  least  sign  that  she  realized  what  was 
going  on.  At  my  suggestion,  one  of  the  gentlemen  took  her 
hand,  and  thr:  tests  were  repeated.  This  time  her  countenance 
changed  whenever  she  was  spoken  to,  but  there  was  not  such 
a  decided  lighting  up  of  the  features  as  when  I  had  held  her 
hand. 

In  the  account  of  Helen  last  year  it  was  stated  that  she  knew 
nothing  about  death,  or  the  burial  of  the  body;  yet  on  entering 
a  cemetery  for  the  first  time  in  her  life,  she  showed  signs  of 
emotion—her  eyes  actually  filling  with  tears. 

A  circumstance  equally  remarkable  occurred  last  summer; 
but,  before  relating  it,  I  will  mention  what  she  now  knows 
with  regard  to  death.  Even  before  1  knew  her,  she  had  handled 
a  dead  chicken,  or  bird,  or  some  other  small  animal.  Some 
time  after  the  visit  to  the  cemetery  before  referred  to,  Helen 
became  interested  in  a  horse  that  had  met  with  an  accident 
by  which  one  of  his  legs  had  been  badly  injured,  and  she  went 
daily  with  me  to  visit  him.  The  wounded  leg  soon  became  so 
much  worse  that  the  horse  was  suspended  from  a  beam.  The 
animal  groaned  with  pain,  and  Helen,  perceiving  his  groans, 
was  filled  with  pity.  At  last  it  became  necessary  to  kill  him, 
and,  when  Helen  next  asked  to  go  and  see  him,  I  told  her  that 
he  was  dead.  This  was  the  first  time  that  she  had  heard  the 
word.  I  then  explained  that  he  had  been  shot  to  relieve  him 
from  suffering,  and  that  he  was  now  buried — put  into  the  ground. 
I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  the  idea  of  his  having  been  inten 
tionally  shot  did  not  make  much  impression  upon  her;  but  I 
think  she  did  realize  the  fact  that  life  was  extinct  in  the  horse 
as  in  the  dead  birds  she  had  touched,  and  also  that  he  had  been 
put  into  the  ground.  Since  this  occurrence,  I  have  used  the 
word  dead  whenever  occasion  required,  but  with  no  further 
explanation  of  its  meaning. 

While  making  a  visit  at  Brewster,  Massachusetts,  she  one  day 


EDUCATION  355 

accompanied  my  friend  and  me  through  the  graveyard.  She 
examined  one  stone  after  another,  and  seemed  pleased  when  she 
could  decipher  a  name.  She  smelt  of  the  flowers,  but  showed  no 
desire  to  pluck  them;  and,  when  I  gathered  a  few  for  her,  she 
refused  to  have  them  pinned  on  her  dress.  When  her  attention 
was  drawn  to  a  marble  slab  inscribed  with  the  name  FLORENCE  in 
relief,  she  dropped  upon  the  ground  as  though  looking  for 
something,  then  turned  to  me  with  a  face  full  of  trouble,  and 
asked,  "Where  is  poor  little  Florence  ?"  I  evaded  the  question, 
but  she  persisted.  Turning  to  my  friend,  she  asked,  "Did  you 
<cry  loud  for  poor  little  Florence?"  Then  she  added:  "I  think 
she  is  very  dead.  Who  put  her  in  big  hole  ?"  As  she  continued 
^o  ask  these  distressing  questions ,  we  left  the  cemetery.  Florence 
-was  the  daughter  of  my  friend,  and  was  a  young  lady  at  the  time 
Df  her  death;  but  Helen  had  been  told  nothing  about  her,  nor 
did  she  even  know  that  my  friend  had  had  a  daughter.  Helen 
had  been  given  a  bed  and  carriage  for  her  dolls,  which  she  had 
received  and  used  like  any  other  gift.  On  her  return  to  the 
house  after  her  visit  to  the  cemetery,  she  ran  to  the  closet 
where  these  toys  were  kept,  and  carried  them  to  my  friend, 
saying,  "They  are  poor  little  Florence's."  This  was  truet 
although  we  were  at  a  loss  to  understand  how  she  guessed  it. 
A  letter  written  to  her  mother  in  the  course  of  the  following 
week  gave  an  account  of  her  impression  in  her  own  words: 

"I  put  my  little  babies  to  sleep  in  Florence's  little  bed,  and  I 
take  them  to  ride  in  her  carriage.  Poor  little  Florence  is  dead. 
She  was  very  sick  and  died.  Mrs.  H.  did  cry  loud  for  her  dear 
little  child.  She  got  in  the  ground,  and  she  is  very  dirty,  and  she 
is  cold.  Florence  was  very  lovely  like  Sadie,  and  Mrs.  H.  kissed 
her  and  hugged  her  much.  Florence  is  very  sad  in  big  hole. 
Doctor  gave  her  medicine  to  make  her  well,  but  poor  Florence  did 
not  get  well.  When  she  was  very  sick  she  tossed  and  moaned 
in  bed.  Mrs.  H.  will  go  to  see  her  soon. " 

Notwithstanding  the  activity  of  Helen's  mind,  she  is  a  very 
natural  child.  She  is  fond  of  fun  and  frolic,  and  loves  dearly 
to  be  with  other  children.  She  is  never  fretful  or  irritable, 
and  I  have  never  seen  her  impatient  with  her  playmates  because 
they  failed  to  understand  her.  She  will  play  for  hours  together 
with  children  who  cannot  understand  a  single  word  she  spells, 
and  it  is  pathetic  to  watch  the  eager  gestures  and  excited  panto 
mime  through  which  her  ideas  and  emotions  find  expression. 


356      A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 

Occasionally  some  little  boy  or  girl  will  try  to  learn  the  manual 
alphabet.  Then  it  is  beautiful  to  observe  with  what  patience, 
sweetness,  and  perseverance  Helen  endeavours  to  bring  the 
unruly  fingers  of  her  little  friend  into  proper  position. 

One  day,  while  Helen  was  wearing  a  little  jacket  of  which 
she  was  very  proud,  her  mother  said:  "There  is  a  poor  little 
girl  who  has  no  cloak  to  keep  her  warm.  Will  you  give  he*1 
yours?"  Helen  began  to  pull  off  the  jacket,  saying,  "I  mus* 
give  it  to  a  poor  little  strange  girl." 

She  is  very  fond  of  children  younger  than  herself,  and  a 
baby  invariably  calls  forth  all  the  motherly  instincts  of  her 
nature.  She  will  handle  the  baby  as  tenderly  as  the  most 
careful  nurse  could  desire.  It  is  pleasant,  too,  to  note  her 
thoughtfulness  for  little  children,  and  her  readiness  to  yield 
to  their  whims. 

She  has  a  very  sociable  disposition,  and  delights  in  the  com 
panionship  of  those  who  can  follow  the  rapid  motions  of  her 
fingers;  but  if  left  alone  she  will  amuse  herself  for  hours  at  a 
time  with  her  knitting  or  sewing. 

She  reads  a  great  deal.  She  bends  over  her  book  with  a  look 
of  intense  interest,  and  as  the  forefinger  of  her  left  hand  runs 
along  the  line,  she  spells  out  the  words  with  the  other  hand; 
but  often  her  motions  are  so  rapid  as  to  be  unintelligible  even 
to  those  accustomed  to  reading  the  swift  and  varied  movements 
of  her  fingers. 

Every  shade  of  feeling  finds  expression  through  her  mobile, 
features.  Her  behaviour  is  easy  and  natural,  and  it  is  charming 
because  of  its  frankness  and  evident  sincerity.  Her  heart  is  too 
full  of  unselfishness  and  affection  to  allow  a  dream  of  fear  or 
unkindness.  She  does  not  realize  that  one  can  be  anything 
but  kind-hearted  and  tender.  She  is  not  conscious  of  any 
reason  why  she  should  be  awkward;  consequently,  her  move 
ments  are  free  and  graceful. 

She  is  very  fond  of  all  the  living  things  at  home,  and  she 
will  not  have  them  unkindly  treated.  When  she  is  riding  in 
the  carriage  she  will  not  allow  the  driver  to  use  the  whip, 
because,  she  says,  "poor  horses  will  cry."  One  morning  she 
was  greatly  distressed  by  finding  that  one  of  the  dogs  had  a 
block  fastened  to  her  collar.  We  explained  that  it  was  done 
to  keep  Pearl  from  running  away.  Helen  expressed  a  great 
deal  of  sympathy,  and  at  every  opportunity  during  the  day 


EDUCATION  357 

*he  would  find  Pearl  and  carry  the  burden  from  place  to 
place. 

Her  father  wrote  to  her  last  summer  that  the  birds  and  bees 
were  eating  all  his  grapes.  At  first  she  was  very  indignant, 
and  said  the  little  creatures  were  "very  wrong";  but  she  seemed 
pleased  when  I  explained  to  her  that  the  birds  and  bees  were 
hungry,  and  did  not  know  that  it  was  selfish  to  eat  all  the  fruit. 
In  a  letter  written  soon  afterward  she  says : 

"I  am  very  sorry  that  bumblebees  and  hornets  and  birds  and 
large  flies  and  worms  are  eating  all  of  my  father's  delicious 
grapes.  They  like  juicy  fruit  to  eat  as  well  as  people,  and 
they  are  hungry.  They  are  not  very  wrong  to  eat  too  many 
grapes  because  they  do  not  know  much." 

She  continues  to  make  rapid  progress  in  the  acquisition  of 
language  as  her  experiences  increase.  While  these  were  few 
and  elementary,  her  vocabulary  was  necessarily  limited;  but, 
as  she  learns  more  of  the  world  about  her,  her  judgment  grows 
more  accurate,  her  reasoning  powers  grow  stronger,  more  active 
and  subtle,  and  the  language  by  which  she  expresses  this  intel 
lectual  activity  gains  in  fluency  and  logic. 

When  traveling  she  drinks  in  thought  and  language.  Sitting 
beside  her  in  the  car,  I  describe  what  I  see  from  the  window — 
hills  and  valleys  and  the  rivers;  cotton-fields  and  gardens  in 
which  strawberries,  peaches,  pears,  melons,  and  vegetables  are 
growing;  herds  of  cows  and  horses  feeding  in  broad  meadows, 
and  flocks  of  sheep  on  the  hillside;  the  cities  with  their  churches 
and  schools,  hotels  and  warehouses,  and  the  occupations  of  the 
busy  people.  While  I  am  communicating  these  things,  Helen 
manifests  intense  interest;  and,  in  default  of  words,  she  indicates 
by  gestures  and  pantomime  her  desire  to  learn  more  of  her 
surroundings  and  of  the  great  forces  which  are  operating  every 
where.  In  this  way,  she  learns  countless  new  expressions 
without  any  apparent  effort. 

From  the  day  when  Helen  first  grasped  the  idea  that  all 
objects  have  names,  and  that  these  can  be  communicated  by 
certain  movements  of  the  fingers,  I  have  talked  to  her  exactly 
as  I  should  have  done  had  she  been  able  to  hear,  with  only  this 
exception,  that  I  have  addressed  the  words  to  her  fingers  instead 
of  to  her  ears.  Naturally,  there  was  at  first  a  strong  tendency 
on  her  part  to  use  only  the  important  words  in  a  sentence.  She 
would  say.  "Helen  milk."  I  got  the  milk  to  show  her  that  she 


-358         A  SUPPLEMENTARY  ACCOUNT 

had  used  the  correct  word;  but  I  did  not  let  her  drink  it  until 
she  had,  with  my  assistance,  made  a  complete  sentence,  as, 
"Give  Helen  some  milk  to  drink."  In  these  early  lessons  I 
encouraged  her  in  the  use  of  different  forms  of  expression  for 
conveying  the  same  idea.  If  she  was  eating  some  candy,  I 
said:  "Will  Helen  please  give  teacher  some  candy?"  or,  "Teacher 
would  like  to  eat  some  of  Helen's  candy,"  emphasizing  the  's. 
She  very  soon  perceived  that  the  same  idea  could  be  expressed 
in  a  great  many  ways.  In  two  or  three  months  after  I  began 
to  teach  her  she  would  say:  "Helen  wants  to  go  to  bed,"  or, 
"Helen  is  sleepy,  and  Helen  will  go  to  bed." 

I  am  constantly  asked  the  question,  "How  did  you  teach  her 
the  meaning  of  words  expressive  of  intellectual  and  moral 
qualities?"  I  believe  it  was  more  through  association  and 
repetition  than  through  any  explanation  of  mine.  This  is 
especially  true  of  her  earlier  lessons,  when  her  knowledge  of 
language  was  so  slight  as  to  make  explanation  impossible. 

I  have  always  made  it  a  practice  to  use  the  words  descrip 
tive  of  emotions,  of  intellectual  or  moral  qualities  and  actions, 
in  connection  with  the  circumstance  which  required  these  words. 
Soon  after  I  became  her  teacher  Helen  broke  her  new  doll, 
of  which  she  was  very  fond.  She  began  to  cry.  I  said  to  her, 
"Teacher  is  sorry"  After  a  few  repetitions  she  came  to  associate 
the  word  with  the  feeling. 

The  word  happy  she  learned  in  the  same  way;  also,  right, 
wrong,  goody  bad,  and  other  adjectives.  The  word  love  she 
learned  as  other  children  do — by  its  association  with  caresses. 

One  day  I  asked  her  a  simple  question  in  a  combination  of 
numbers,  which  I  was  sure  she  knew.  She  answered  at  random. 
I  checked  her,  and  she  stood  still,  the  expression  of  her  face 
plainly  showing  that  she  was  trying  to  think.  I  touched  her 
forehead,  and  spelled  "t-h-i-n-k."  The  word,  thus  connected 
with  the  act,  seemed  to  impress  itself  on  her  mind  much  as  if 
I  had  placed  her  hand  upon  an  object  and  then  spelled  its  name. 
Since  that  time  she  has  always  used  the  word  think. 

At  a  later  period  I  began  to  use  such  words  as  perhaps, 
suppose,  expect,  forget,  remember.  If  Helen  asked,  "Where  is 
mother  now?"  I  replied:  "I  do  not  know.  Perhaps  she  is 
with  Leila." 

She  is  always  anxious  to  learn  the  names  of  people  we  meet 
in  the  horse-cars  or  elsewhere,  and  to  know  where  they  are  goinge 


EDUCATION  359 

what  they  will  do.     Conversations  of  this  kind  are  frequents 

HELEN.     What  is  little  boy's  name  ? 

TEACHER.  I  do  not  know,  for  he  is  a  little  stranger;  but 
perhaps  his  name  is  Jack. 

HELEN.     Where  is  he  going? 

TEACHER.  He  may  be  going  to  the  Common  to  have  fu» 
with  other  boys. 

HELEN.     What  will  he  play? 

TEACHER.     I  suppose  he  will  play  ball, 

HELEN.     What  are  boys  doing  now  ? 

TEACHER.  Perhaps  they  are  expecting  Jack,  and  are 
waiting  foi  him. 

After  the  words  have  become  familiar  to  her,  she  uses  them 
in  composition. 

"  September  26,  [1888.3 

"  This  morning  teacher  and  I  sat  by  the  window  and  we  saw 
a  little  boy  walking  on  the  sidewalk.  It  was  raining  very  hard 
and  he  had  a  very  large  umbrella  to  keep  off  the  rain-drops. 

"I  do  not  know  how  old  he  was  but  think  he  may  have  been  six 
years  old.  Perhaps  his  name  was  Joe.  I  do  not  know  where  he 
was  going  because  he  was  a  little  strange  boy.  But  perhaps  his 
mother  sent  him  to  a  store  to  buy  something  for  dinner.  He  had 
a  bag  in  one  hand.  I  suppose  he  was  going  to  take  it  to  his 
mother." 

In  teaching  her  the  use  of  language,  I  have  not  confined 
myself  to  any  particular  theory  or  system.  I  have  observed 
the  spontaneous  movements  of  my  pupil's  mind,  and  have 
tried  to  follow  the  suggestions  thus  given  to  me. 

Owing  to  the  nervousness  of  Helen's  temperament,  every 
precaution  has  been  taken  to  avoid  unduly  exciting  her  already 
very  active  brain.  The  greater  part  of  the  year  has  been  spent 
in  travel  and  in  visits  to  different  places,  and  her  lessons  have 
been  those  suggested  by  the  various  scenes  and  experiences 
through  which  she  has  passed.  She  continues  to  manifest  the 
same  eagerness  to  learn  as  at  first.  It  is  never  necessary  to 
urge  her  to  study.  Indeed,  I  am  often  obliged  to  coax  her  to 
leave  an  example  or  a  composition. 

While  not  confining  myself  to  any  special  system  of  instruction, 
I  have  tried  to  add  to  her  general  information  and  intelligence, 
to  enlarge  her  acquaintance  with  things  around  her,  and  to 
bring  her  into  easy^and  natural  relations  with  people.  I  have 


360         A  SUPPLEMENTARY  ACCOUNT 

encouraged  her  to  keep  a  diary,  from  which  the  following  selec* 
tion  has  been  made:] 

"March  22nd,  1888. 

"Mr.  Anagnos  came  to  see  me  Thursday.  I  was  glad  to  hug 
and  kiss  him.  He  takes  care  of  sixty  little  blind  girls  and  seventy 
little  blind  boys.  I  do  love  them.  Little  blind  girls  sent  me  a 
pretty  workbasket.  I  found  scissors  and  thread,  and  needle- 
book  with  many  needles  in  it,  and  crochet  hook  and  emery,  and 
thimble,  and  box,  and  yard  measure  and  buttons,  and  pin 
cushion.  I  will  write  little  blind  girls  a  letter  to  thank  them. 
I  will  make  pretty  clothes  for  Nancy  and  Adeline  and  Allie. 
I  will  go  to  Cincinnati  in  May  and  buy  another  child.  Then  I 
will  have  four  children.  New  baby's  name  is  Harry.  Mr. 
Wilson  and  Mr.  Mitchell  came  to  see  us  Sunday.  Mr.  Anagnos 
went  to  Louisville  Monday  to  see  little  blind  children.  Mother 
went  to  Huntsville.  I  slept  with  father,  and  Mildred  slept 
With  teacher.  I  did  learn  about  calm.  It  does  mean  quiet  anr3 
happy.  Uncle  Morrie  sent  me  pretty  stories.  I  read  about  birds. 
The  quail  lays  fifteen  or  twenty  eggs  and  they  are  white.  She: 
makes  her  nest  on  the  ground.  The  blue-bird  makes  her  nesij 
in  a  hollow  tree  and  her  eggs  are  blue.  The  robin's  eggs  are 
green.  I  learned  a  song  about  spring.  March,  April,  May  are 
spring. 

Now  melts  the  snow. 
The  warm  winds  blow 
The  waters  flow 
And  robin  dear, 
Is  come  to  show 
That  Spring  is  here. 

"James  "Mlled  snipes  for  breakfast.  Little  chickens  did  get 
very  cold  and  die.  I  am  sorry.  Teacher  and  I  went  to  ride  on 
Tennessee  River,  in  a  boat.  I  saw  Mr.  Wilson  and  James  row 
with  oars.  Boat  did  glide  swiftly  and  I  put  hand  in  water  and 
felt  it  flowing. 

"I  caught  fish  with  hook  and  line  and  pole.  We  climbed  high 
hill  and  teacher  fell  and  hurt  her  head.  I  ate  very  small  fish 
for  supper.  I  did  read  about  cow  and  calf.  The  cow  loves  to 
eat  grass  as  well  as  girl  does  bread  and  butter  and  milk.  Little 
calf  does  run  and  leap  in  field.  She  likes  to  skip  and  play,  for 
she  is  happy  when  the  sun  is  bright  and  warm.  Little  boy  did 
love  his  calf.  And  he  did  say,  I  will  kiss  vou.  little  calf,  and  he 


EDUCATION  30* 

put  his  arms  around  calf's  neck  and  kissed  her.  The  calf  licked 
good  boy's  face  with  long  rough  tongue.  Calf  must  not  open 
mouth  much  to  kiss.  I  am  tired,  and  teacher  does  not  want 
me  to  write  more." 

In  the  autumn  she  went  to  a  circus.  While  we  were  standing 
before  his  cage  the  lion  roared,  and  Helen  felt  the  vibration 
of  the  air  so  distinctly  that  she  was  able  to  reproduce  tha 
noise  quite  accurately. 

I  tried  to  describe  to  her  the  appearance  of  a  camel;  but,  as 
we  were  not  allowed  to  touch  the  animal,  I  feared  that  she  did 
not  get  a  correct  idea  of  its  shape.  A  few  days  afterward, 
however,  hearing  a  commotion  in  the  schoolroom,  I  went  in  and 
found  Helen  on  all  fours  with  a  pillow  so  strapped  upon  her  back 
as  to  leave  a  hollow  in  the  middle,  thus  making  a  hump  on 
either  side.  Between  these  humps  she  had  placed  her  doll, 
which  she  was  giving  a  ride  around  the  room.  I  watched  her  for 
some  time  as  she  moved  about,  trying  to  take  long  strides  in 
order  to  carry  out  the  idea  I  had  given  her  of  the  camel's  gait. 
When  I  asked  her  what  she  was  doing,  she  replied,  "I  am  a  very 
funny  camel." 


During  the  next  two  years  neither  Mr.  Anagnos,  who  was  in 
Europe  for  a  year,  nor  Miss  Sullivan  wrote  anything  about 
Helen  Keller  for  publication.  In  1892  appeared  the  Perkins 
Institution  report  for  1891,  containing  a  full  account  of  Helen 
Keller,  including  many  of  her  letters,  exercises,  and  composi 
tions.  As  some  of  the  letters  and  the  story  of  the  "Frost  King" 
are  published  here,  there  is  no  need  of  printing  any  more 
samples  of  Helen  Keller's  writing  during  the  third,  fourth  and 
fifth  years  of  her  education.  It  was  the  first  two  years  that 
counted.  From  Miss  Sullivan's  part  of  this  report  I  give  her 
most  important  comments  and  such  biographical  matter  as 
does  not  appear  elsewhere  in  the  present  volume. 


These  extracts  Mr.  Anagnos  took  from  Miss  Sullivan's  notes 
>nd  memoranda. 


362      A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 

One  day,  while  her  pony  and  her  donkey  were  standing  side  by 
side,  Helen  went  from  one  to  the  other,  examining  them  closely. 
At  last  she  paused  with  her  hand  upon  Neddy's  head,  and 
addressed  him  thus:  "Yes,  dear  Neddy,  it  is  true  that  you  are 
not  as  beautiful  as  Black  Beauty.  Your  body  is  not  so  hand 
somely  formed,  and  there  is  no  proud  look  in  your  face,  and 
your  neck  does  not  arch.  Besides,  your  long  ears  make  you 
look  a  liw;le  funny.  Of  course,  you  cannot  help  it,  and  I  love 
you  just  as  well  as  if  you  were  the  most  beautiful  creature  in 
the  world." 

Helen  has  been  greatly  interested  in  the  story  of  "Black 
Beauty."  To  show  how  quickly  she  perceives  and  associates 
ideas,  I  will  give  an  instance  which  all  who  have  read  the 
book  will  be  able  to  appreciate.  I  was  reading  the  following 
paragraph  to  her: 

"The  horse  was  an  old,  worn-out  chestnut,  with  an  ill-kept 
coat,  and  bones  that  showed  plainly  through  it;  the  knees 
knuckled  over,  and  the  forelegs  were  very  unsteady.  I  had 
been  eating  some  hay,  and  the  wind  rolled  a  little  lock  of  it 
that  way,  and  the  poor  creature  put  out  her  long,  thin  neck 
and  picked  it  up,  and  then  turned  round  and  looked  about 
for  more.  There  was  a  hopeless  look  in  the  dull  eye  that  I 
could  not  help  noticing,  and  then,  as  I  was  thinking  where 
I  had  seen  that  horse  before,  she  looked  full  at  me  and  said, 
*  Black  Beauty,  is  that  you?"5 

At  this  point  Helen  pressed  my  hand  to  stop  me.  She  was 
sobbing  convulsively.  "It  was  poor  Ginger,"  was  all  she  could 
say  at  first.  Later,  when  she  was  able  to  talk  about  it,  she  said: 
"Poor  Ginger!  The  words  made  a  distinct  picture  in  my  mind. 
I  could  see  the  way  Ginger  looked;  all  her  beauty  gone,  her 
beautiful  arched  neck  drooping,  all  the  spirit  gone  out  of  her 
flashing  eyes,  all  the  playfulness  gone  out  of  her  manner.  Oh, 
how  terrible  it  was!  I  never  knew  before  that  there  could 
be  such  a  change  in  anything.  There  were  very  few  spots 
of  sunshine  in  poor  Ginger's  life,  and  the  sadnesses  were  so 
many!"  After  a  moment  she  added,  mournfully,  "I  fear  some 
people's  lives  are  just  like  Ginger's/' 

This  morning  Helen  was  reading  for  the  first  time  Bryant's 
poem,  "Oh,  mother  of  a  mighty  race!"  I  said  to  her,  "Tell 
me,  when  you  have  read  the  poem  through,  who  you  think  the 
mother  is."  When  she  came  to  the  line,  "There's  freedom  at 


EDUCATION  363 

thy  gates,  and  rest,"  she  exclaimed:  "It  means  America  !  The 
gate,  I  suppose,  is  New  York  City,  and  Freedom  is  the  great 
statue  of  Liberty."  After  she  had  read  "The  Battlefield," 
by  the  same  author,  I  asked  her  which  verse  she  thought  was 
the  most  beautiful.  She  replied,  "I  like  this  verse  best: 

'Truth  crushed  to  earth  shall  rise  again; 

The  eternal  years  of  God  are  hers; 

But  Error,  wounded,  writhes  with  pain. 

And  dies  among  his  worshipers.'  " 

She  is  at  nnoe  transported  into  the  midst  of  the  events  of 
&  story.  She  rejoices  when  justice  wins,  she  is  sad  when  virtue 
Mes  low,  and  her  face  glows  with  admiration  and  reverence 
when  heroic  deeds  are  described.  She  even  enters  into  the  spirit 
of  battle;  she  says,  "I  think  it  is  right  for  men  to  fight  against 
«rrongs  and  tyrants." 


Here  begins  Miss  Sullivan's  connected  account  in  the  report 
of  1891: 


During  the  past  three  years  Helen  has  continued  to  make 
rapid  progress  in  the  acquisition  of  language.  She  has  one 
advantage  over  ordinary  children,  that  nothing  from  without 
distracts  her  attention  from  her  studies. 

But  this  advantage  involves  a  corresponding  disadvantage; 
the  danger  of  unduly  severe  mental  application.  Her  mind 
is  so  constituted  that  she  is  in  a  state  of  feverish  unrest  while 
conscious  that  there  is  something  that  she  does  not  compre 
hend.  I  have  never  known  her  to  be  willing  to  leave  a  lesson 
when  she  felt  that  there  was  anything  in  it  which  she  did  not 
understand.  If  I  suggest  her  leaving  a  problem  in  arithmetic 
until  the  next  day,  she  answers,  "I  think  it  will  make  my  mind 
stronger  to  do  it  now." 

A  few  evenings  ago  we  were  discussing  the  tariff.  Helen 
wanted  me  to  tell  her  about  it.  I  said:  "No.  You  cannot 
understand  it  yet."  She  was  quiet  for  a  moment,  and  then 
isked.  with  spirit*  "How  do  you  know  that  I  cannot  understand! 


364  A  SUPPLEMENTARY  ACCOUNT 

I  have  a  good  mind!  You  must  remember,  dear  teacher,  that 
Greek  parents  were  very  particular  with  their  children,  and 
they  used  to  let  them  listen  to  wise  words,  and  I  think  they 
•understood  some  ot  tnem."  i  have  tound  it  best  not  to  tell 
her  that  she  cannot  understand,  because  she  is  almost  certain 
to  become  excited. 

Not  long  ago  I  tried  to  show  her  how  to  build  a  tower  with 
her  blocks.  As  the  design  was  somewhat  complicated,  the 
slightest  jar  made  the  structure  fall.  After  a  time  I  became 
discouraged,  and  told  her  I  was  afraid  she  could  not  make  it 
stand,  but  that  I  would  build  it  for  her;  but  she  did  not  approve 
of  this  plan.  She  was  determined  to  build  the  tower  herself; 
and  for  nearly  three  hours  she  worked  away,  patiently  gathering 
up  the  blocks  whenever  they  fell,  and  beginning  over  again, 
until  at  last  her  perseverance  was  crowned  with  success.  The 
tower  stood  complete  in  every  part. 

Until  October,  1889,  I  had  not  deemed  it  best  to  confine 
Helen  to  any  regular  and  systematic  course  of  study.  For 
the  first  two  vears  of  her  intellectual  life  she  was  like  a  child  in  a 
strange  country,  where  everything  was  new  and  perplexing; 
and,  until  she  gained  a  knowledge  of  language,  it  was  not  possible 
to  give  her  a  definite  course  of  instruction. 

Moreover,  Helen's  inquisitiveness  was  so  great  during  these 
years  that  it  would  have  interfered  with  her  progress  in  the 
acquisition  of  language,  if  a  consideration  of  the  questions 
which  were  constantly  occurring  to  her  had  been  deferred  until 
the  completion  of  a  lesson.  In  all  probability  she  would  have 
forgotten  the  question,  and  a  good  opportunity  to  explain 
something  of  real  interest  to  her  would  have  been  lost.  There 
fore  it  has  always  seemed  best  to  me  to  teach  anything  when 
ever  my  pupil  needed  to  know  it,  whether  it  had  any  bearing  on 
the  projected  lesson  or  not;  her  inquiries  have  often  led  us  faf 
away  from  the  subject  under  immediate  consideration. 

Since  October,  1889,  ner  work  has  been  more  regular  and  has 
included  arithmetic,  geography,  zoology,  botany  and  reading. 

She  has  made  considerable  progress  in  the  study  of  arithmetic. 
She  readily  explains  the  processes  of  multiplication,  addition, 
subtraction,  and  division,  and  seems  to  understand  the  opera 
tions.  She  has  nearly  finished  Colburn's  mental  arithmetict 
her  last  work  being  in  improper  fractions.  She  has  also  done 
some  good  work  in  written  arithmetic.  Her  mind  works  &6 


EDUCATION  365^ 

rapidly,  that  it  often  happens,  that  when  I  give  her  an  example 
she  will  give  me  the  correct  answer  before  I  have  time  to  write 
out  the  question.  She  pays  little  attention  to  the  language 
used  in  stating  a  problem,  and  seldom  stops  to  ask  the  meaning 
of  unknown  words  or  phrases  until  she  is  ready  to  explain  her 
work.  Once,  when  a  question  puzzled  her  very  much,  I  sug 
gested  that  we  take  a  walk  and  then  perhaps  she  would  under 
stand  it.  She  shook  her  head  decidedly,  and  said:  "My  enemies 
would  think  I  was  running  away.  I  must  stay  and  conquer 
them  now,"  and  she  did. 

The  intellectual  improvement  which  Helen  has  made  in 
the  past  two  years  is  shown  more  clearly  in  her  greater  com 
mand  of  language  and  in  her  ability  to  recognize  nicer  shades 
of  meaning  in  the  use  of  words,  than  in  any  other  branch  of 
her  education. 

Not  a  day  passes  that  she  does  not  learn  many  new  words, 
nor  are  these  merely  the  names  of  tangible  and  sensible  objects. 
For  instance,  she  one  day  wished  to  know  the  meaning  of  the 
following  words:  Phenomenon,  comprise,  energy,  reproduction, 
extraordinary,  perpetual  and  mystery.  Some  of  these  words 
have  successive  steps  of  meaning,  beginning  with  what  is  simple 
and  leading  on  to  what  is  abstract.  It  would  have  been  a 
hopeless  task  to  make  Helen  comprehend  the  more  abstruse 
meanings  of  the  word  mystery,  but  she  understood  readily 
that  it  signified  something  hidden  or  concealed,  and  when  she 
makes  greater  progress  she  will  grasp  its  more  abstruse  mean 
ing  as  easily  as  she  now  does  the  simpler  signification.  In 
investigating  any  subject  there  must  occur  at  the  beginning 
words  and  phrases  which  cannot  be  adequately  understood 
until  the  pupil  has  made  considerable  advancement;  yet  I  have 
thought  it  best  to  go  on  giving  my  pupil  simple  definitions, 
thinking  that,  although  these  may  be  somewhat  vague  and 
provisional,  they  will  come  to  one  another's  assistance,  and  that 
what  is  obscure  to-day  will  be  plain  to-morrow. 

I   regard   my   pupil   as  a   free  and  active  being,   whose  owni 
spontaneous  impulses  must  be  my  surest  guide.      I  have  always 
talked  to  Helen  exactly  as  I  would  talk  to  a  seeing  and  hearing 
child,  and  I  have  insisted  that  other  people  should  do  the  same. 
Whenever  any  one  asks  me  if  she  will  understand  this  or  that 
word    I   always   reply:    "Never   mind   whether   she  understands  . 
each  separate  word  of  a  sentence  or  not.      She  will  guess  the 


366          A  SUPPLEMENTARY  ACCOUNT 

meanings  of  the  new  words  from  their  connection  with  others 
which  are  already  intelligible  to   her." 

In  selecting  books  for  Helen  to  read,  I  have  never  chosen 
them  with  reference  to  her  deafness  and  blindness.  She 
always  reads  such  books  as  seeing  and  hearing  children  of  her 
age  read  and  enjoy.  Of  course,  in  the  beginning  it  was  neces 
sary  that  the  things  described  should  be  familiar  and  interesting, 
and  the  English  pure  and  simple.  I  remember  distinctly  when 
she  first  attempted  to  read  a  little  story.  She  had  learned  the 
printed  letters,  and  for  some  time  had  amused  herself  by  making 
simple  sentences,  using  slips  on  which  the  words  were  printed 
in  raised  letters;  but  these  sentences  had  no  special  relation  to 
one  another.  One  morning  we  caught  a  mouse,  and  it  occurred 
to  me,  with  a  live  mouse  and  a  live  cat  to  stimulate  her  interest, 
that  I  might  arrange  some  sentences  in  such  a  way  as  to  form 
a  little  story,  and  thus  give  her  a  new  conception  of  the  use  of 
language.  So  I  put  the  following  sentences  in  the  frame,  and 
gave  it  to  Helen:  "The  cat  is  on  the  box.  A  mouse  is  in  the 
box.  The  cat  can  see  the  mousec  The  cat  would  like  to  eat 
the  mouse.  Do  not  let  the  cat  get  the  mouse.  The  cat  can 
have  some  milk,  and  the  mouse  can  have  some  cake."  The 
word  the  she  did  not  know,  and  of  course  she  wished  it  explained- 
At  that  stage  of  her  advancement  it  would  have  been  impos 
sible  to  explain  its  use,  and  so  I  did  not  try,  but  moved  her 
finger  on  to  the  next  word,  which  she  recognized  with  a  bright 
smile  Then,  as  I  put  her  hand  upon  puss  sitting  on  the  box, 
she  made  a  little  exclamation  of  surprise,  and  the  rest  of  the 
sentence  became  perfectly  clear  to  her.  When  she  had  read 
the  words  of  the  second  sentence,  I  showed  her  that  there  really 
was  a  mouse  in  the  box.  She  then  moved  her  finger  to  the 
next  line  with  an  expression  of  eager  interest.  "The  cat  can 
see  the  mouse."  Here  I  made  the  cat  look  at  the  mouse,  and 
let  Helen  feel  the  cat.  The  expression  of  the  little  girl's  coun 
tenance  showed  that  she  was  perplexed.  I  called  her  attention 
to  the  following  line,  and,  although  she  knew  only  the  three 
words,  cat,  eat  and  mouse,  she  caught  the  idea.  She  pulled  the 
cat  away  and  put  her  on  the  floor,  at  the  same  time  covering 
the  box  with  the  frame.  When  she  read,  "Do  not  let  the  cat 
get  the  mouse  !"  she  recognized  the  negation  in  the  sentence, 
and  seemed  to  know  that  the  cat  must  not  get  the 
mouse.  Get  and  let  wre  new  words.  She  was  familiar  with  the 


EDUCATION  367 

words  of  the  last  sentence,  and  was  delighted  when  allowed 
to  act  them  out.  By  signs  she  made  me  understand  that  she 
wished  another  story,  and  i  gave  her  a  book  containing  very 
short  stories,  written  in  the  most  elementary  style.  She  ran 
her  fingers  along  the  lines,  finding  the  words  she  knew  and  guess 
ing  at  the  meaning  of  others,  in  a  way  that  would  convince 
the  most  conservative  of  educators  that  a  iillle  deaf  child,  if 
given  the  opportunity,  will  learn  to  read  as  easily  and  naturally 
as  ordinary  children. 

I  am  convinced  that  Helen's  use  of  English  is  due  largely  to 
her  familiarity  with  books.  She  often  reads  for  two  or  three 
hours  in  succession,  and  then  lays  aside  her  book  reluctantly. 
One  day  as  we  left  the  library  I  noticed  that  she  appeared  more 
serious  than  usual,  and  I  asked  the  cause.  "I  am  thinking 
how  much  wiser  we  always  are  when  we  leave  here  than  we 
are  when  we  come,"  was  her  reply. 

When  asked  why  she  loved  books  so  much,  she  once  replied: 
"Because  they  tell  me  so  much  that  is  interesting  about  things 
I  cannot  see,  and  they  are  never  tired  or  troubled  like  people- 
TLey  tell  me  over  and  over  what  I  want  to  know." 

While  reading  from  Dickens's  "Child's  History  of  England,'* 
we  came  to  the  sentence,  "Still  the  spirit  of  the  Britons  was  not 
broken."  I  asked  what  she  thought  that  meant.  She  replied, 
"I  think  it  means  that  the  brave  Britons  were  not  discouraged 
because  the  Romans  had  won  so  many  battles,  and  they  wished 
all  the  more  to  drive  them  away."  It  would  not  have  been 
possible  for  her  to  define  the  words  in  this  sentence;  and  yet  she 
had  caught  the  author's  meaning,  and  was  able  to  give  it  in  her 
own  words.  The  next  lines  are  still  more  idiomatic,  "When 
Suetonius  left  the  country,  they  fell  upon  his  troops  and  retook 
the  island  of  Anglesea."  Here  is  her  interpretation  of  the 
sentence:  "It  means  that  when  the  Roman  general  had  gone 
away,  the  Britons  began  to  fight  again;  and  because  the  Roman 
soldiers  had  no  general  to  tell  them  what  to  do,  they  were  over* 
come  by  the  Britons  and  lost  the  island  they  had  captured." 

She  prefers  intellectual  to  manual  occupations,  and  is  not 
so  fond  of  fancy  work  as  many  of  the  blind  children  are;  yet 
she  is  eager  to  join  them  in  whatever  they  are  doing.  She 
has  learned  to  use  the  Caligraph  typewriter,  and  writes  very 
correctly,  but  not  rapidly  as  yet,  having  had  less  than  a  month's 
practice. 


368      A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 

More  than  two  years  ago  a  cousin  taught  her  the  telegraph 
alphabet  by  making  the  dots  and  dashes  on  the  back  of  her 
hand  with  his  finger.  Whenever  she  meets  any  one  who  is 
familiar  with  this  system,  she  is  delighted  to  use  it  in  conversa 
tion.  1  have  found  it  a  convenient  medium  of  communicating 
with  Helem  when  she  is  at  some  distance  from  me,  for  it  enables 
me  to  talk  with  her  by  tapping  upon  the  floor  with  my  foot. 
She  feels  the  vibrations  and  understands  what  is  said  to  her. 

It  was  hoped  that  one  so  peculiarly  endowed  by  nature  as 
Helen,  would,  if  left  entirely  to  her  own  resources,  throw  some 
light  upon  such  psychological  questions  as  were  not  exhaust 
ively  investigated  by  Dr.  Howe;  but  their  hopes  were  not  to 
be  realized.  In  the  case  of  Helen,  as  in  that  of  Laura  Bridgman, 
disappointment  was  inevitable.  It  is  impossible  to  isolate  a 
child  in  the  midst  of  society,  so  that  he  shall  not  be  influenced 
by  the  beliefs  of  those  with  whom  he  associates.  In  Helen'* 
case  such  an  end  could  not  have  been  attained  without  depriv 
ing  her  of  that  intercourse  with  others,  which  is  essential  tc 
her  nature. 

It  must  have  been  evident  to  those  who  watched  the  rapier 
unfolding  of  Helen's  faculties  that  it  would  not  be  possible  to 
keep  her  inquisitive  spirit  for  any  length  of  time  from  reaching 
out  toward  the  unfathomable  mysteries  of  life.  But  great  care 
has  been  taken  not  to  lead  her  thoughts  prematurely  to  ths 
consideration  of  subjects  which  perplex  and  confuse  all  minds. 
Children  ask  profound  questions,  but  they  often  receive  shallow 
answers,  or,  to  speak  more  correctly,  they  are  quieted  by  such 
answers. 

"Where  did  I  come  from  ?"  and  "Where  shall  I  go  when  I  die  ?" 
were  questions  Helen  a^ked  when  she  was  eight  years  old. 
But  the  explanations  which  she  was  able  to  understand  at  that 
time  did  not  satisfy,  although  they  forced  her  to  remain  silent, 
until  her  mind  should  begin  to  put  forth  its  higher  powers,  and 
generalize  from  innumerable  impressions  and  ideas  which 
streamed  in  upon  it  from  books  and  from  her  daily  experiences. 
Her  mind  sought  for  the  cause  of  things. 

As  her  observation  of  phenomena  became  more  extensive 
and  her  vocabulary  richer  and  more  subtle,  enabling  her  to 
express  her  own  conceptions  and  ideas  clearly,  and  also  to 
comprehend  the  thoughts  and  experiences  ot  others,  she  became 
acquainted  with  the  limit  of  human  creative  power,  and  per- 


EDUCATION  369 

ceived  that  some  power,  not  human,  must  have  created  the 
earth,  the  sun,  and  the  thousand  natural  objects  with  which 
she  was  perfectly  familiar. 

Finally  she  one  day  demanded  a  name  for  the  power,  the 
existence  or  which  she  had  already  conceived  in  her  own  mind. 

Through  Charles  Kingsley's  "Greek  Heroes"  she  had  become 
familiar  with  the  beautiful  stories  of  the  Greek  gods  and  god 
desses,  and  she  must  have  met  with  the  words  God,  heaven, 
soul,  and  a  great  many  similar  expressions  in  books. 

She  never  asked  the  meaning  or"  such  words,  nor  made  any 
comment  when  they  occurred;  and  until  February,  1889,  no  one 
had  ever  spoken  to  her  of  God.  At  that  time,  a  dear  relative 
who  was  also  an  earnest  Christian,  tried  to  tell  her  about  God 
but,  as  this  lady  did  not  use  words  suited  to  the  comprehension 
of  the  child,  they  made  little  impression  upon  Helen's  mind. 
When  I  subsequently  talked  with  her  she  said:  "I  have  some 
thing  very  funny  to  tell  you.  A.  says  God  made  me  and  every 
one  out  of  sand;  but  it  must  be  a  joke.  I  am  made  of  flesh 
and  blood  and  bone,  am  I  not?"  Here  she  examined  her  arm 
with  evident  satisfaction,  laughing  heartily  to  herself.  After 
a  moment  she  went  on:  "A.  says  God  is  everywhere,  and  that 
He  is  all  love;  but  I  do  not  think  a  person  can  be  made  out  of 
love.  Love  is  only  something  in  our  hearts.  Then  A.  said 
another  very  comical  thing.  She  says  He  (meaning  God)  is 
my  dear  father.  It  made  me  laugh  quite  hard,  for  I  know  my 
father  is  Arthur  Keller." 

I  explained  to  her  that  she  was  not  yet  able  to  understand 
what  had  been  told  her,  and  so  easily  led  her  to  see  that  it 
would  be  better  not  to  talk  about  such  things  until  she  was  wiser. 

She  had  met  with  the  expression  Mother  Nature  in  the  course 
or  her  reading,  and  for  a  long  time  she  was  in  the  habit  of  ascrib 
ing  to  Mother  Nature  whatever  she  felt  to  be  beyond  the  power 
or  man  to  accomplish.  She  would  say,  when  speaking  of  the 
growth  of  a  plant,  "Mother  Nature  sends  the  sunshine  and  the 
rain  to  make  the  trees  and  the  grass  and  the  flowers  grow." 
The  following  extract  from  my  notes  will  show  what  were  her 
ideas  at  this  time: 

Helen  seemed  a  little  serious  after  supper,  and  Mrs.  H.  asked 
her  of  what  she  was  thinking.  "I  am  thinking  how  very  busy 
dear  Mother  Nature  is  in  the  springtime,"  she  replied.  When 
asked  why,  she  answered:  "Because  she  has  so  many  children 


370      A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 

to  take  care  of.  She  is  the  mother  of  everything;  the  flowers 
and  trees  and  winds." 

"How  does  Mother  Nature  take  care  of  the  flowers  ?"  I  asked. 
"She  sends  the  sunshine  and  rain  to  make  them  grow,"  Helen 
replied;  and  after  a  moment  she  added,  "I  think  the  sunshine 
is  Nature's  warm  smile,  and  the  raindrops  are  her  tears." 

Later  she  said:  "I  do  not  know  if  Mother  Nature  made  me. 
I  think  my  mother  got  me  from  heaven,  but  I  do  not  know 
where  that  place  is.  I  know  that  daises  and  pansies  come  from 
seeds  which  have  been  put  in  the  ground;  but  children  do  not 
grow  out  of  the  ground,  I  am  sure.  I  have  never  seen  a  plant- 
child  !  But  I  cannot  imagine  who  made  Mother  Nature,  can 
you  ?  I  love  the  beautiful  spring,  because  the  budding  trees 
and  the  blossoming  flowers  and  the  tender  green  leaves  fill  my 
heart  with  joy.  I  must  go  now  to  see  my  garden.  The  daisies 
and  the  pansies  will  think  I  have  forgotten  them." 

After  May,  1890,  it  was  evident  to  me  that  she  had  reached 
a  point  where  it  was  impossible  to  keep  from  her  the  religious 
beliefs  held  by  those  with  whom  she  was  in  daily  contact.  She 
almost  overwhelmed  me  with  inquiries  which  were  the  natural 
outgrowth  of  her  quickened  intelligence. 

Early  in  May  she  wrote  on  her  tablet  the  following  list  of 
questions: 

"  I  wish  to  write  about  things  I  do  not  understand.  Who  made 
the  earth  and  the  seas,  and  everything  ?  What  makes  the  sun 
hot  ?  Where  was  I  before  I  came  to  mother  ?  I  know  that 
plants  grow  from  seeds  which  are  in  the  ground,  but  I  am  sure 
people  do  not  grow  that  way.  I  never  saw  a  child-plant.  Little 
birds  and  chickens  come  out  of  eggs.  I  have  seen  them.  What 
was  the  egg  before  it  was  an  egg  ?  Why  does  not  the  earth  fall, 
it  is  so  very  large  and  heavy  ?  Tell  me  something  that  Father 
Nature  does.  May  I  read  the  book  called  the  Bible  ?  Please 
tell  your  little  pupil  many  things  when  you  have  much  time." 

Can  any  one  doubt  after  reading  these  questions  that  the  child 
who  was  capable  of  asking  them  was  also  capable  of  under 
standing  at  least  their  elementary  answers  ?  She  could  not,  of 
course,  have  grasped  such  abstractions  as  a  complete  answer  to 
her  questions  would  involve;  but  one's  whole  life  is  nothing 
more  than  a  continual  advance  in  the  comprehension  of  the 
meaning  and  scope  of  such  ideas. 

Throughout  Plelen's   education   I   have   invariably   assumed 


EDUCATION  371 

that  she  can  understand  whatever  it  is  desirable  for  her  to  know. 
Unless  there  had  been  in  Helen's  mind  some  such  intellectual 
process  as  the  questions  indicate,  any  explanation  of  them 
would  have  been  unintelligible  to  her.  Without  that  degree  of 
mental  development  and  activity  which  perceives  the  neces 
sity  of  superhuman  creative  power,  no  explanation  of  natural 
phenomena  is  possible. 

After  she  had  succeeded  in  formulating  the  ideas  which  had 
been  slowly  growing  in  her  mind,  they  seemed  suddenly  to 
absorb  all  her  thoughts,  and  she  became  impatient  to  have 
everything  explained.  As  we  were  passing  a  large  globe  a  short 
time  after  she  had  written  the  questions,  she  stopped  before 
it  and  asked,  "Who  made  the  real  world?"  I  replied,  "No  one 
knows  how  the  earth,  the  sun,  and  all  the  worlds  which  we  call 
stars  came  to  be;  but  I  will  tell  you  how  wise  men  have  tried 
to  account  for  their  origin,  and  to  interpret  the  great  and 
mysterious  forces  of  nature." 

She  knew  that  the  Greeks  had  many  gods  to  whom  they 
ascribed  various  powers,  because  they  believed  that  the  sun, 
the  lightning,  and  a  hundred  other  natural  forces,  were  inde 
pendent  and  superhuman  powers.  But  after  a  great  deal  of 
thought  and  study,  I  told  her,  men  came  to  believe  that  all 
forces  were  manifestations  of  one  power,  and  to  that  power  they 
gave  the  name  God. 

She  was  very  still  for  a  few  minutes,  evidently  thinking 
earnestly.  She  then  asked,  "Who  made  God?"  I  was  com 
pelled  to  evade  her  question,  for  I  could  not  explain  to  her  the 
mystery  of  a  self-existent  being.  Indeed,  many  of  her  eager 
questions  would  have  puzzled  a  far  wiser  person  than  I  am. 
Here  are  some  of  them:  "What  did  God  make  the  new  worlds 
out  of?"  "Where  did  he  get  the  soil,  and  the  water,  and  the 
seeds,  and  the  first  animals?"  "Where  is  God?"  "Did  you 
ever  see  God  ?"  I  told  her  that  God  was  everywhere,  and  that 
she  must  not  think  of  Him  as  a  person,  but  as  the  life,  the  mind, 
the  soul  of  everything.  She  interrupted  me :  "Everything  does 
not  have  life.  The  rocks  have  not  life,  and  they  cannot  think." 
It  is  often  necessary  to  remind  her  that  there  are  infinitely 
many  things  that  the  wisest  people  in  the  world  cannot  explain. 

No  creed  or  dogma  has  been  taught  to  Helen,  nor  has  any 
effort  been  made  to  force  religious  beliefs  upon  her  attention. 
Being  fully  aware  of  my  own  incompetence  to  give  her  anv 


372       A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 

adequate  explanations  of  the  mysteries  which  underlie  the  names 
©f  God,  soul,  and  immortality,  I  have  always  felt  obliged,  by  a 
sense  of  duty  to  my  pupil,  to  say  as  little  as  possible  about 
spiritual  matters.  The  Rt.  Rev.  Phillips  Brooks*  has  explained 
to  her  in  a  beautiful  way  the  fatherhood  of  God. 

She  has  not  as  yet  been  allowed  to  read  the  Bible,  because 
I  do  not  see  how  she  can  do  so  at  present  without  getting  a 
very  erroneous  conception  of  the  attributes  of  God.  I  have 
already  told  her  in  simple  language  of  the  beautiful  and  helpful 
life  of  Jesus,  and  of  his  cruel  death.  The  narrative  affected 
her  greatly  when  first  she  listened  to  it. 

When  she  referred  to  our  conversation  again,  it  was  to  ask; 
"Why  did  not  Jesus  go  away,  so  that  his  enemies  could  not  find 
Him  ?"  She  thought  the  miracles  of  Jesus  very  strange.  When 
told  that  Jesus  walked  on  the  sea  to  meet  His  disciples,  she 
said,  decidedly,  "It  does  not  mean  walked,  it  means  swam.' 
When  told  of  the  instance  in  which  Jesus  raised  the  dead,  sht 
was  much  perplexed,  saying,  "I  did  not  know  life  could  come 
back  into  the  dead  body  !" 

One  day  she  said,  sadly:  "I  am  blind  and  deaf.  That  i:- 
why  I  cannot  see  God."  I  taught  her  the  word  invisible,  and 
told  her  we  could  not  see  God  with  our  eyes,  because  He  was  ;, 
spirit;  but  that  when  our  hearts  were  full  of  goodness  anc; 
gentleness,  then  we  saw  Him  because  then  we  were  more  like 
Him. 

At  another  time  she  asked,  "What  is  a  soul?'*  "No  one 
knows  what  the  soul  is  like,"  I  replied;  "but  we  know  that  it  is 
not  the  body,  and  it  is  that  part  of  us  which  thinks  and  loves 
and  hopes,  and  which  Christian  people  believe  will  live  on  after 
the  body  is  dead."  I  then  asked  her,  "Can  you  think  of  your 
soul  as  separate  from  your  body?"  "Oh,  yes!"  she  replied, 
^because  last  hour  I  was  thinking  very  hard  of  Mr.  Anagnos, 
and  then  my  mind," — then  changing  the  word — "my  soul  was 
in  Athens,  but  my  body  was  here  in  the  study."  At  this  moment 
another  thought  seemed  to  flash  through  her  mind,  and  she 
added,  "But  Mr  Anagnos  did  not  speak  to  my  soul."  I  explained 
to  her  that  the  soul,  too,  is  invisible,  or  in  other  words,  that  it? 
is  without  apparent  form.  "But  if  I  write  what  my  soul  thinks," 
•he  said,  "then  it  will  be  visible,  and  the  words  will  be  its  body." 

A  lorg  time  ago  Helen  said  to  me,  "I  would  like  to  live  sixteen 

*  Seepage  ifv 


EDUCATION  373 

hundred  years.'*  When  asked  if  she  would  not  like  to  live 
always  in  a  beautiful  country  called  heaven,  her  first  question 
was,  "Where  is  heaven?"  I  was  obliged  to  confess  that  I  did 
ttot  know,  but  suggested  that  it  might  be  on  one  of  the  stars. 
A  moment  after  she  said,  "Will  you  please  go  first  and  tell 
me  all  about  it?"  and  then  she  added,  "Tuscumbia  is  a  very 
beautiful  little  town."  It  was  more  than  a  year  before  she 
alluded  to  the  subject  again,  and  when  she  did  return  to  it, 
her  questions  were  numerous  and  persistent.  She  asked: 
"Where  is  heaven,  and  what  is  it  like  ?  Why  cannot  we  know 
as  much  about  heaven  as  we  do  about  foreign  countries?"  I 
told  her  in  very  simple  language  that  there  may  be  many  places 
called  heaven,  but  that  essentially  it  was  a  condition — the  ful 
filment  of  the  heart's  desire,  the  satisfaction  of  its  wants;  and 
that  heaven  existed  wherever  right  was  acknowledged,  believed 
in,  and  loved. 

She  shrinks  from  the  thought  of  death  with  evident  dismay. 
Recently,  on  being  shown  a  deer  which  had  been  killed  by 
her  brother,  she  was  greatly  distressed,  and  asked  sorrowfully, 
"Why  must  everything  die,  even  the  fleet-footed  deer?"  At 
another  time  she  asked,  "Do  you  not  think  we  would  be  very 
much  happier  always,  if  we  did  not  have  to  die?"  I  said,  "No; 
because,  if  there  were  no  death,  our  world  would  soon  be  so 
crowded  with  living  creatures  that  it  would  be  impossible  for 
any  of  them  to  live  comfortably."  "But,"  said  Helen,  quickly, 
"I  think  God  could  make  some  more  worlds  as  well  as  he  made 
this  one." 

When  friends  have  told  her  of  the  great  happiness  which 
awaits  her  in  another  life,  she  instantly  asked:  "How  do  you 
know,  if  you  have  not  been  dead  ?" 

The  literal  sense  in  which  she  sometimes  takes  common 
words  and  idioms  shows  how  necessary  it  is  that  we  should 
make  sure  that  she  receives  their  correct  meaning.  When 
told  recently  that  Hungarians  were  born  musicians,  she  asked 
In  surprise,  "Do  they  sing  when  they  are  born?"  When  her 
friend  added  that  some  of  the  pupils  he  had  seen  in  Budapest 
had  more  than  one  hundred  tunes  in  their  heads,  she  said, 
laughing,  "I  think  their  heads  must  be  very  noisy."  She  sees 
the  ridiculous  quickly,  and,  instead  of  being  seriously  troubled 
by  metaphorical  language,  she  is  often  amused  at  her  own  too 
literal  conception  of  its  meaning. 


374       A  SUPPLEMENTARY  ACCOUNT 

Having  been  told  that  the  soul  was  without  form,  she  was 
much  perplexed  at  David's  words,  "He  leadeth  my  soul." 
"Has  it  feet?  Can  it  walk?  Is  it  blind?"  she  asked;  for  in 
her  mind  the  idea  of  being  led  was  associated  with  blindness. 

Of  all  the  subjects  which  perplex  and  trouble  Helen,  none 
distresses  her  so  much  as  the  knowledge  of  the  existence  of 
evil,  and  of  the  suffering  which  results  from  it.  For  a  long 
time  it  was  possible  to  keep  this  knowledge  from  her;  and  it 
will  always  be  comparatively  easy  to  prevent  her  from  coming 
in  personal  contact  with  vice  and  wickedness.  The  fact  that 
sin  exists,  and  that  great  misery  results  from  it,  dawned  gradu 
ally  upon  her  mind  as  she  understood  more  and  more  clearly 
the  lives  and  experiences  of  those  around  her.  The  necessity  of 
laws  and  penalties  had  to  be  explained  to  her.  She  found  it  very 
hard  to  reconcile  the  presence  of  evil  in  the  world  with  the  idea 
of  God  which  had  been  presented  to  her  mind. 

One  day  she  asked,  "Does  God  take  care  of  us  all  the  time?" 
She  was  answered  in  the  affirmative.  "Then  why  did  he  let 
little  sister  fall  this  morning,  and  hurt  her  head  so  badty?" 
Another  time  she  was  asking  about  the  power  and  goodness  or 
God.  She  had  been  told  of  a  terrible  storm  at  sea,  in  which 
several  lives  were  lost,  and  she  asked,  "Why  did  not  God 
save  the  people  if  he  can  do  all  things?" 

Surrounded  by  loving  friends  and  the  gentlest  influences, 
as  Helen  had  always  been,  she  has,  from  the  earliest  stage  of 
her  intellectual  enlightenment,  willingly  done  right.  She 
knows  with  unerring  instinct  what  is  right,  and  does  it  joyously. 
She  does  not  think  of  one  wrong  act  as  harmless,  of  another  as 
of  no  consequence,  and  of  another  as  not  intended.  To  her 
pure  soul  all  evil  is  equally  unlovely. 


These  passages  from  the  paper  Miss  Sullivan  prepared  for  the 
meeting  at  Chautauqua,  in  July,  1894,  of  the  American  Associa 
tion  to  Promote  the  Teaching  of  Speech  to  the  Deaf,  contain 
her  latest  written  account  of  her  methods. 

You  must  not  imagine  that  as  soon  as  Helen  grasped  the 
idea  that  everything  had  a  name  she  at  once  became  mistress 


EDUCATION  375 

of  the  treasury  of  the  English  language,  or  that  "her  mental 
faculties  emerged,  full  armed,  from  their  then  living  tomb,  as 
Pallas  Athene  from  the  head  of  Zeus,"  as  one  of  her  enthusiastic 
admirers  would  have  us  believe.  At  first,  the  words,  phrases 
and  sentences  which  she  used  in  expressing  her  thoughts  were 
all  reproductions  of  what  we  had  used  in  conversation  with 
her,  and  which  her  memory  had  unconsciously  retained.  And 
indeed,  this  is  true  of  the  language  of  all  children.  Theii 
language  is  the  memory  of  the  language  they  hear  spoken  in 
their  homes.  Countless  repetition  of  the  conversation  of  daily 
life  has  impressed  certain  words  and  phrases  upon  their  memories, 
and  when  they  come  to  talk  themselves,  memory  supplies  the 
words  they  lisp.  Likewise,  the  language  of  educated  people 
is  the  memory  of  the  language  of  books. 

Language  grows  out  of  life,  out  of  its  needs  and  experiences. 
At  first  my  little  pupil's  mind  was  all  but  vacant.  She  had 
been  living  in  a  world  she  could  not  realize.  Language  and 
knowledge  are  indissolubly  connected;  they  are  interdependent. 
Good  work  in  language  presupposes  and  depends  on  a  real 
knowledge  of  things.  As  soon  as  Helen  grasped  the  idea  that 
everything  had  a  name,  and  that  by  means  of  the  manual 
alphabet  these  names  could  be  transmitted  from  one  to  another, 
I  proceeded  to  awaken  her  further  interest  in  the  objects  whose 
names  she  learned  to  spell  with  such  evident  joy.  /  never 
taught  language  for  the  PURPOSE  of  teaching  it;  but  invariably 
used  language  as  a  medium  for  the  communication  of  thought; 
thus  the  learning  of  language  was  coincident  with  the  acquisition 
of  knowledge.  In  order  to  use  language  intelligently,  one  must 
have  something  to  talk  about,  and  having  something  to  talk 
about  is  the  result  of  having  had  experiences;  no  amount  of 
language  training  will  enable  our  little  children  to  use  language 
with  ease  and  fluency  unless  they  have  something  clearly  in  their 
minds  which  they  wish  to  communicate,  or  unless  we  succeed 
in  awakening  in  them  a  desire  to  know  what  is  in  the  minds  of 
others. 

At  first  I  did  not  attempt  to  confine  my  pupil  to  any  system. 
I  always  tried  to  find  out  what  interested  her  most,  and  made  | 
that  the  starting-point  for  the  new  lesson,  whether  it  had  any  I 
bearing  on  the  lesson  I  had  planned  to  teach  or  not.     During ' 
the  first  two  years  of  her  intellectual  life,  I  required  Helen 
to  write  very  little.     In  order  to  write  one  must  have  some- 


376      A  SUPPLEMENTARY  ACCOUNT 

thing  to  write  about,  and  having  something  to  write  about 
requires  some  mental  preparation.  The  memory  must  be 
stored  with  ideas  and  the  mind  must  be  enriched  with  knowledge 
before  writing  becomes  a  natural  and  pleasurable  effort.  Too 
often,  I  think,  children  are  required  to  write  before  they  have 
anything  to  say.  Teach  them  to  think  and  read  and  talk 
without  self-repression,  and  they  will  write  because  they  cannot 
help  it. 

Helen  acquired  language  by  practice  and  habit  rather  than 
by  study  of  rules  and  definitions.  Grammar  with  its  puzzling 
array  ot  classifications  nomenclatures,  and  paradigms,  was 
wholly  discarded  in  her  education.  She  learned  language  by 
being  brought  in  contact  with  the  living  language  itself;  she 
was  made  to  deal  with  it  in  everyday  conversation,  and  in  her 
books,  and  to  turn  it  over  in  a  variety  of  ways  until  she  was 
able  to  use  it  correctly.  No  doubt  I  talked  much  more  with 
my  fingers,  and  more  constantly  than  I  should  have  done  with 
my  mouth;  for  had  she  possessed  the  use  of  sight  and  hearing, 
she  would  have  been  less  dependent  on  me  for  entertainment 
and  instruction. 

I  believe  every  child  has  hidden  away  somewhere  in  his  being 
noble  capacities  which  may  be  quickened  and  developed  if  we 
go  about  it  in  the  right  way;  but  we  shall  never  properly  develop 
the  higher  natures  of  our  little  ones  while  we  continue  to  fill 
their  minds  with  the  so-called  rudiments.  Mathematics  will 
never  make  them  loving,  nor  will  the  accurate  knowledge  of 
the  size  and  shape  of  the  world  help  them  to  appreciate  its 
beauties.  Let  us  lead  them  during  the  first  years  to  find  their 
greatest  pleasure  in  Nature.  Let  them  run  in  the  fields,  learn 
about  animals,  and  observe  real  things.  Children  will  educate 
themselves  under  right  conditions.  They  require  guidance 
and  sympathy  far  more  than  instruction. 

I  think  much  of  the  fluency  with  which  Helen  uses  language 
is  due  to  the  fact  that  nearly  every  impression  which  she  receives 
comes  through  the  medium  of  language.  But  after  due  allow 
ance  has  been  made  for  Helen's  natural  aptitude  for  acquiring 
language,  and  for  the  advantage  resulting  from  her  peculiar 
environment,  I  think  that  we  shall  still  find  that  the  constant 
companionship  of  good  books  has  been  of  supreme  impor 
tance  in  her  education.  It  may  be  true,  as  some  maintain,  that 
language  cannot  express  to  us  much  beyond  what  we  have 


EDUCATION  37? 

lived  and  experienced;  butl  have  always  observed  that  children 
manifest  the  greatest  delight  in  the  lofty,  poetic  language 
which  we  are  too  ready  to  think  beyond  their  comprehension. 
"This  is  all  you  will  understand,"  said  a  teacher  to  a  class  of 
little  children,  closing  the  book  which  she  had  been  reading 
to  them.  "Oh,  please  read  us  the  rest,  even  if  we  won't  under 
stand  it,"  they  pleaded,  delighted  with  the  rhythm,  and  the 
beauty  which  they  felt,  even  though  they  could  not  have 
explained  it.  It  is  not  necessary  that  a  child  should  under 
stand  every  word  in  a  book  before  he  can  read  with  pleas-are 
and  profit.  Indeed,  only  such  explanations  should  be  given  as 
are  really  essential.  Helen  drank  in  language  which  she  at 
first  could  not  understand,  and  it  remained  in  her  mind  until 
needed,  when  it  fitted  itself  naturally  and  easily  into  her  con 
versation  and  compositions.  Indeed,  it  is  maintained  by  some 
that  she  reads  too  much,  that  a  great  deal  of  originative  force 
is  dissipated  in  the  enjoyment  of  books;  that  when  she  might 
see  and  say  things  for  herself,  she  sees  them  only  through  the 
eyes  of  others,  and  says  them  in  their  language;  but  I  am 
convinced  that  original  composition  without  the  preparation  of 
much  reading  is  an  impossibility.  Helen  has  had  the  best 
and  purest  models  in  language  constantly  presented  to  her, 
and  her  conversation  and  her  writing  are  unconscious  repro 
ductions  of  what  she  has  read.  Reading,  I  think,  should  be 
kept  independent  of  the  regular  school  exercises.  Children 
should  be  encouraged  to  read  for  the  pure  delight  of  it.  The 
attitude  of  the  child  toward  his  books  should  be  that  of  uncon 
scious  receptivity.  The  great  works  of  the  imagination  ought 
to  become  a  part  of  his  life,  as  they  were  once  of  the  very 
substance  of  the  men  who  wrote  them.  It  is  true,  the  more 
sensitive  and  imaginative  the  mind  is  that  receives  the  thought- 
pictures  and  images  of  literature,  the  more  nicely  the  finest 
lines  are  reproduced.  Helen  has  the  vitality  of  feeling,  the 
freshness  and  eagerness  of  interest,  and  the  spiritual  insight  of 
the  artistic  temperament,  and  naturally  she  has  a  more  active 
and  intense  joy  in  life,  simply  as  life,  and  in  nature,  books,  and 
people  than  less  gifted  mortals.  Her  mind  is  so  filled  with  the 
beautiful  thoughts  and  ideals  of  the  great  poets  that  nothing 
seems  commonplace  to  her;  for  her  imagination  colours  all  life 
with  its  own  rich  hues. 


378      A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 

There  has  been  much  discussion  of  such  of  Miss  Sullivan's 
statements  and  explanations  as  have  been  published  before. 
Too  much  has  been  written  by  people  who  do  not  know  the 
problems  of  the  deaf  at  first  hand,  and  I  do  not  care  to  add 
much  to  it.  Miss  Keller's  education,  however,  is  so  funda 
mentally  a  question  of  language  teaching  that  it  rather  includes 
the  problems  of  the  deaf  than  limits  itself  to  the  deaf  alone. 
Teachers  can  draw  their  own  conclusions.  For  the  majority 
of  readers,  who  will  not  approach  Miss  Keller's  life  from  the 
educator's  point  of  view,  I  will  summarize  a  few  principal  things 
in  Miss  Sullivan's  methods. 

Miss  Sullivan  has  begun  where  Dr.  Howe  left  off.  He 
invented  the  instrument,  the  physical  means  of  working,  but 
the  teaching  of  language  is  quite  another  thing  from  the  mechan 
ical  means  by  which  language  may  be  taught.  By  experiment, 
by  studying  other  children,  Miss  Sullivan  came  upon  the  practical 
way  of  teaching  language  by  the  natural  method.  It  was  for 
this  "natural  method"  that  Dr.  Howe  was  groping,  but  he 
never  got  to  this  idea,  that  a  deaf  child  should  not  be  taught 
each  word  separately  by  definition,  but  should  be  given  language 
by  endless  repetition  of  language  which  it  does  not  understand. 
And  this  is  Miss  Sullivan's  great  discovery.  All  day  long  in 
their  play-time  and  work-time  Miss  Sullivan  kept  spelling  into 
her  pupil's  hand,  and  by  that  Helen  Keller  absorbed  words, 
just  as  the  child  in  the  cradle  absorbs  words  by  hearing  thou* 
sands  of  them  before  he  uses  one  and  by  associating  the  words 
with  the  occasion  of  their  utterance.  Thus  he  learns  that  word£ 
name  things  and  actions  and  feelings.  Now,  that  is  the  first 
principle  in  Miss  Sullivan's  method,  one  that  had  practical 
results,  and  one  which,  so  far  as  I  can  discover,  had  never  been 
put  in  practice  in  the  education  of  a  deaf  child,  not  to  say  a  deaf» 
blind  child,  until  Miss  Sullivan  tried  it  with  Helen  Keller. 
And  the  principle  had  never  been  formulated  clearly  until 
Miss  Sullivan  wrote  her  letters. 

The  second  principle  in  her  method  (the  numerical  order  is, 
of  course,  arbitrary)  is  never  to  talk  to  the  child  about  things 
distasteful  or  wearisome  to  him.  In  the  first  deaf  school  Miss 
Sullivan  ever  visited,  the  teacher  was  busy  at  the  blackboard 
telling  the  children  by  written  words  something  they  did  not 
want  to  know,  while  they  were  crowding  round  their  visito* 
with  wide-awake  curiosity,  showing  there  were  a  thousand  thingT 


EDUCATION  379 

they  did  want  to  know.     Why  not,  says  Miss  Sullivan,  make  a 
language  lesson  out  of  what  they  were  interested  in  ?* 

Akin  to  this  idea  of  talking  to  the  child  about  what  interests 
him,  is  the  principle  never  to  silence  a  child  who  asks  questions, 
but  to  answer  the  questions  as  truly  as  possible;  for,  says  Miss 
Sullivan,  the  question  is  the  door  to  the  child's  mind.  Miss 
Sullivan  never  needlessly  belittled  her  ideas  or  expressions 
to  suit  the  supposed  state  of  the  child's  intelligence.  She 
urged  every  one  to  speak  to  Helen  naturally,  to  give  her  full 
sentences  and  intelligent  ideas,  never  minding  whether  Helen 
understood  or  not.  Thus  Miss  Sullivan  knew  what  so  many 
people  do  not  understand,  that  after  the  first  rudimentary 
definitions  of  hat,  cup,  go,  sit,  the  unit  of  language,  as 
the  child  learns  it,  is  the  sentence,  which  is  also  the  unit 
of  language  in  our  adult  experience.  We  do  not  take  in  a 
sentence  word  by  word,  but  as  a  whole.  It  is  the  proposition, 
something  predicated  about  something,  that  conveys  an  idea. 
True,  single  words  do  suggest  and  express  ideas;  the  child  may 
say  simply  "mamma"  when  he  means  "Where  is  mamma?"  but 
he  learns  the  expression  of  the  ideas  that  relate  to  mamma — h$ 
learns  language — by  hearing  complete  sentences.  And  though 
Miss  Sullivan  did  not  force  grammatical  completeness  upon  th§ 
first  finger-lispings  of  her  pupil,  yet  when  she  herself  repeated 
Helen's  sentence,  "mamma  milk,"  she  filled  out  the  construction, 
completed  the  child's  ellipsis  and  said,  "Mamma  will  bring  Helen 
some  milk." 

Thus  Miss  Sullivan  was  working  out  a  natural  method,  which 
is  so  simple,  so  lacking  in  artificial  system,  that  her  method 
seems  rather  to  be  a  destruction  of  method.  It  is  doubtful  if 
we  should  have  heard  of  Helen  Keller  if  Miss  Sullivan  had  not 
been  where  there  were  other  children.  By  watching  them,  she 
learned  to  treat  her  pupil  as  nearly  as  possible  like  an  ordinary 
child. 

The  manual  alphabet  was  not  the  only  means  of  presenting 
words  to  Helen  Keller's  fingers.  Books  supplemented,  perhaps' 
equaled  in  importance,  the  manual  alphabet,  as  a  means  of 
teaching  language.  Helen  sat  poring  over  them  before  she  could 
read,  not  at  first  for  the  story,  but  to  find  words  she  knew; 
and  the  definition  of  new  words  which  is  implied  in  their  con 
text,  in  their  position  with  reference  to  word*  known,  added 

*Page    3SJ 


380      A  SUPPLEMENTARY  ACCOUNT 

to  Helen's  vocabulary.  Books  are  the  storehouse  of  language, 
and  any  child,  whether  deaf  or  not,  if  he  has  his  attention 
attracted  in  any  way  to  printed  pages,  must  learn.  He  learns 
not  by  reading  what  he  understands,  but  by  reading  and  remem 
bering  words  he  does  not  understand.  And  though  perhaps  few 
children  will  have  as  much  precocious  interest  in  books  as  did 
Helen  Keller,  yet  the  natural  curiosity  of  every  healthy  child 
may  be  turned  to  printed  pages,  especially  if  the  teacher  is 
clever  and  plays  a  word  game  as  Miss  Sullivan  did.  Helen 
Keller  is  supposed  to  have  a  special  aptitude  for  languages. 
It  is  true  rather  that  she  has  a  special  aptitude  for  thinking, 
and  her  leaning  toward  language  is  due  to  the  fact  that  language 
to  her  meant  life.  It  was  not  a  special  subject,  like  geography 
or  arithmetic,  but  her  way  to  outward  things. 

When  at  the  age  of  fourteen  she  had  had  but  a  few  lessons 
in  German,  she  read  over  the  words  of  "Wilhelm  Tell"  and 
managed  to  get  the  story.  Of  grammar  she  knew  nothing  and 
she  cared  nothing  for  it.  She  got  the  language  from  the  language 
itself,  and  this  is,  next  to  hearing  the  language  spoken,  the  way 
for  any  one  to  get  a  foreign  tongue,  more  vital  and,  in  the 
end,  easier  than  our  schoolroom  method  of  beginning  with  the 
grammar.  In  the  same  way  she  played  with  Latin,  learning 
not  only  from  the  lessons  her  first  Latin  teacher  gave  her,  but 
from  going  over  and  over  the  words  of  a  text,  a  game  she  played 
by  herself. 

Mr.  John  D.  Wright,  one  of  her  teachers  at  the  Wright- 
Humason  school,  says  in  a  letter  to  me: 

"Often  I  found  her,  when  she  had  a  little  leisure,  sitting  in  her 
favourite  corner,  in  a  chair  whose  arms  supported  the  big  volume 
prepared  for  the  blind,  and  passing  her  finger  slowly  over  the 
lines  of  Moliere's  'Le  Medecin  Malgre  Lui/  chuckling  to  herself 
at  the  comical  situations  and  humorous  lines.  At  that  time 
her  actual  working  vocabulary  in  French  was  very  small,  but 
by  using  her  judgment,  as  we  laughingly  called  the  mental 
process,  she  could  guess  at  the  meanings  of  the  words  and  put 
the  sense  together  much  as  a  child  puzzles  out  a  sliced  object. 
The  result  was  that  in  a  few  weeks  she  and  I  spent  a  most 
hilarious  hour  one  evening  while  she  poured  out  to  me  the  whole 
story,  dwelling  with  great  gusto  on  its  humour  and  sparkling 
wit.  It  was  not  a  lesson,  but  only  one  of  her  recreations." 

So  Helen  Keller's  aptitude  for  language  is  her  whole  mental 


EDUCATION  38l 

aptitude,  turned  to  language  because  of  its  extraordinary  value 
to  her. 

There  have  been  many  discussions  of  the  question  whether 
Helen  Keller's  achievements  are  due  to  her  natural  ability  or  to 
the  method  by  which  she  was  taught. 

It  is  true  that  a  teacher  with  ten  times  Miss  Sullivan's  genius 
could  not  have  made  a  pupil  so  remarkable  as  Helen  Keller 
out  of  a  child  born  dull  and  mentally  deficient.  But  it  is  also 
true  that,  with  ten  times  her  native  genius,  Helen  Keller  could 
not  have  grown  to  what  she  is,  if  she  had  not  been  excellently 
taught  from  the  very  start,  and  especially  at  the  start.  And 
the  fact  remains  that  she  was  taught  by  a  method  of  teaching 
language  to  the  deaf  the  essential  principles  of  which  are  clearly 
expressed  in  Miss  Sullivan's  letters,  written  while  she  was  dis 
covering  the  method  and  putting  it  successfully  into  practice. 
And  it  can  be  applied  by  any  teacher  to  any  healthy  deaf 
child,  and  in  the  broadest  interpretation  of  the  principles,  can 
be  applied  to  the  teaching  of  language  of  all  kinds  to  all  children. 

In  the  many  discussions  of  this  question  writers  seem  to 
throw  us  from  one  horn  to  another  of  a  dilemma — either  a 
born  genius  in  Helen  Keller,  or  a  perfect  method  in  the  teacher. 
Both  things  may  be  true  at  once,  and  there  is  another  truth 
which  makes  the  dilemma  imperfect.  Miss  Sullivan  is  a  person 
of  extraordinary  power.  Her  method  might  not  succeed  so 
completely  in  the  hands  of  any  one  else.  Miss  Sullivan's  vigor 
ous,  original  mind  has  lent  much  of  its  vitality  to  her  pupil. 
If  Miss  Keller  is  fond  of  language  and  not  interested  especially 
in  mathematics,  it  is  not  surprising  to  find  Miss  Sullivan's 
interests  very  similar.  And  this  does  not  mean  that  Miss  Keller 
is  unduly  dependent  on  her  teacher.  It  is  told  of  her  that,  as  a 
child  of  eight,  when  some  one  tried  to  interfere  with  her,  she 
sat  sober  a  few  moments  and,  when  asked  what  was  the  trouble, 
answered,  "I  am  preparing  to  assert  my  independence."  Such 
an  aggressive  personality  cannot  grow  up  in  mere  dependence 
even  under  the  guidance  of  a  will  like  Miss  Sullivan's.  But 
Miss  Sullivan  by  her  "natural  aptitude"  has  done  for  her  pupil 
mucn  that  is  not  capable  of  analysis  and  reduction  to  principle; 
she  has  given  the  inspiration  which  is  in  all  close  friendship,  and 
which  rather  develops  than  limits  the  powers  of  either  person. 
Moreover,  if  Miss  Keller  is  a  "marvel  of  sweetness  and  good 
ness,"  if  she  has  a  love  "of  all  things  good  and  beautiful,"  this 


382       A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 

implies  something  about  the  teacher  who  has  lived  with  her  for 
sixteen  years. 

There  is,  then,  a  good  deal  that  Miss  Sullivan  has  done  for 
Miss  Keller  which  no  other  teacher  can  do  in  just  the  same  way 
for  any  one  else.  To  have  another  Helen  Keller  there  must  be 
another  Miss  Sullivan.  To  have  another  well-educated  deaf 
and  blind  child,  there  need  only  be  another  teacher,  living  under 
favourable  conditions,  among  plenty  of  external  interests,  unsep- 
arated  from  her  pupil,  allowed  to  have  a  free  hand,  and  using 
as  many  as  she  needs  of  the  principles  which  Miss  Sullivan  has 
saved  her  the  trouble  of  finding  out  for  herself,  modifying  and 
adding  as  she  finds  it  necessary;  and  there  must  be  a  pupil  in 
good  health,  of  good  native  powers,  young  enough  not  to  have 
grown  beyond  recovery  in  ignorance.  Any  deaf  child  or  deaf 
and  blind  child  in  good  health  can  be  taught.  And  the  one 
to  do  it  is  the  parent  or  the  special  teacher,  not  the  school.  I 
know  that  this  idea  will  be  vigorously  combated  by  those  who 
conduct  schools  for  the  deaf.  To  be  sure,  the  deaf  school  is 
the  only  thing  possible  for  children  educated  by  the  State.  But 
it  is  evident  that  precisely  what  the  deaf  child  needs  to  ba 
taught  is  what  other  children  learn  before  they  go  to  school  at 
all.  When  Miss  Sullivan  went  out  in  the  barnyard  and  picked 
up  a  little  chicken  and  talked  to  Helen  about  it,  she  was  giving 
a  kind  of  instruction  impossible  inside  four  walls,  and  impossible 
with  more  than  one  pupil  at  a  time. 

Surely  Dr.  Howe  is  wrong  when  he  says,  "  A  teacher  cannot 
be  a  child."  That  is  just  what  the  teacher  of  the  deaf  child 
must  be,  a  child  ready  to  play  and  romp,  and  interested  in  all 
childish  things. 

The  temptation  to  discuss,  solely  in  the  light  of  Helen  Keller, 
the  whole  matter  of  educating  the  deaf  is  a  dangerous  one,  and 
one  which  I  have  not  taken  particular  care  to  avoid,  because 
my  opinions  are  of  no  authority  and  I  have  merely  tried  to 
suggest  problems  and  reinforce  some  of  the  main  ideas  expressed 
by  Miss  Sullivan,  who  is  an  authority.  It  is  a  question  whether 
Helen  Keller's  success  has  not  led  teachers  to  expect  too  much 
of  other  children,  and  I  know  of  deaf-blind  children  who  are 
dragged  along  by  their  teachers  and  friends,  and  become  the 
subjects  of  glowing  reports,  which  are  pathetically  untruefl 
because  one  sees  behind  the  reports  how  the  children  are  tugged 


EDUCATION  383 

at  to  bring  them  somewhere  near  the  exaggerated  things  that 
are  said  about  them. 

Let  me  sum  up  a  few  of  the  elements  that  made  Helen  Keller 
what  she  is.  In  the  first  place  she  had  nineteen  months'  experi 
ence  of  sight  and  sound.  This  meant  some  mental  development. 
She  had  inherited  vigour  of  body  and  mind.  She  expressed 
ideas  in  signs  before  she  learned  language.  Mrs.  Keller  writes 
me  that  before  her  illness  Helen  made  signs  for  everything, 
and  her  mother  thought  this  habit  the  cause  of  her  slowness  in 
learning  to  speak.  After  the  illness,  when  they  were  dependent 
on  signs,  Helen's  tendency  to  gesture  developed.  How  far 
she  could  receive  communications  is  hard  to  determine,  but 
she  knew  much  that  was  going  on  around  her.  She  recognized 
that  others  used  their  lips;  she  "saw"  her  father  reading  a  paper 
and  when  he  laid  it  down  she  sat  in  his  chair  and  held  the  paper 
before  her  face.  Her  early  rages  were  an  unhappy  expression 
of  the  natural  force  of  character  which  instruction  was  to  turn 
into  trained  and  organized  power. 

It  was,  then,  to  a  good  subject  that  Miss  Sullivan  brought  her 
devotion  and  intelligence,  and  fearless  willingness  to  experiment. 
Miss  Sullivan's  methods  were  so  good  that  even  without  the 
practical  result,  any  one  would  recognize  the  truth  of  the 
teacher's  ideas.  Miss  Sullivan  has  in  addition  a  vigorous 
personality.  And  finally  all  the  conditions  were  good  for  that 
first  nature  school,  in  which  the  teacher  and  pupil  played 
together,  exploring  together  and  educating  themselves,  pupil 
and  teacher  inseparable. 

Miss  Keller's  later  education  is  easy  to  understand  and  needs 
no  further  explanation  than  she  has  given.  Those  interested 
may  get  on  application  to  the  Volta  Bureau,  Washington,  D.  C., 
the  reports  of  the  teachers  who  prepared  her  for  college,  Mr. 
Arthur  Oilman  of  the  Cambridge  School  for  Young  Ladies,  and 
Mr.  Merton  S.  Keith. 


CHAPTER  IV 

SPEECH 

THE  two  persons  who  have  written  authoritatively  about 
Miss  Keller's  speech  and  the  way  she  learned  it  are  Miss  Sarah 
Fuller,*  of  the  Horace  Mann  School  for  the  Deaf  in  Boston, 
Massachusetts,  who  gave  her  the  first  lessons,  and  Miss  Sullivan, 
who,  by  her  unremitting  discipline,  carried  on  the  success  of 
these  first  lessons. 

Before  I  quote  from  Miss  Sullivan's  account,  let  me  try  to 
give  some  impression  of  what  Miss  Keller's  speech  and  voice 
qualities  are  at  present. 

Her  voice  is  low  and  pleasant  to  listen  to.  Her  speech  lacks 
variety  and  modulation;  it  runs  in  a  sing-song  when  she  is 
reading  aloud;  and  when  she  speaks  with  fair  degree  of  loud- 
ness,  it  hovers  about  two  or  three  middle  tones.  Her  voice 
has  an  aspirate  quality;  there  seems  always  to  be  too  much 
breath  for  the  amount  of  tone.  Some  of  her  notes  are  musical 
and  charming.  When  she  is  telling  a  child's  story,  or  one.  with 
pathos  in  it,  her  voice  runs  into  pretty  slurs  from  one  tone  to 
another.  This  is  like  the  effect  of  the  slow  dwelling  on  long 
Words,  not  quite  well  managed,  that  one  notices  in  a  child  who 
is  telling  a  solemn  story. 

The  principal  thing  that  is  lacking  is  sentence  accent  and 
variety  in  the  inflection  of  phrases.  Miss  Keller  pronounces 
each  word  as  a  foreigner  does  when  he  is  still  labouring  with  the 
elements  of  a  sentence,  or  as  children  sometimes  read  in  school 
when  they  have  to  pick  out  each  word  . 

She  speaks  French  and  German.  Her  friend,  Mr.  John  Hitz. 
whose  native  tongue  is  German,  says  that  her  pronunciation  is 
excellent.  Another  friend,  who  is  as  familiar  with  French  as 
with  English,  finds  her  French  much  more  intelligible  than 
her  English.  When  she  speaks  English  she  distributes  her 

*  Miss  Fuller's  account  may  be  obtained  on  application  to  the  Volta  Bureau* 
Washington,  D.  C. 

384 


SPEECH  385 

emphasis  as  in  French  and  so  does  not  put  sufficient  stress  on 
accented  syllables.  She  says  for  example,  "  pro'-vo'-ca'-tion," 
"in'-di'-vi'-du'-al,"  with  ever  so  little  difference  between  the 
value  of  the  syllables,  and  a  good  deal  of  inconsistency  in  the 
pronunciation  of  the  same  word  one  day  and  the  next.  It  would, 
I  think,  be  hard  to  make  her  feel  just  how  to  pronounce  dic 
tionary  without  her  erring  either  toward  dictionayry  or 
diction  ry,  and,  of  course  the  word  is  neither  one  nor  the 
other.  For  no  system  of  marks  in  a  lexicon  can  tell  one  how 
to  pronounce  a  word.  The  only  way  is  to  hear  it,  especially  in 
a  language  like  English  which  is  so  full  of  unspellable,  suppressed 
vowels  and  quasi-vowels. 

Miss  Keller's  vowels  are  not  firm.  Her  awful  is  nearly  awfil. 
The  wavering  is  caused  by  the  absence  of  accent  on  ful,  for 
she  pronounces  full  correctly. 

She  sometimes  mispronounces  as  she  reads  aloud  and  comes 
on  a  word  which  she  happens  never  to  have  uttered,  though 
she  may  have  written  it  many  times.  This  difficulty  and  some 
others  may  be  corrected  when  she  and  Miss  Sullivan  have  more 
time.  Since  1894,  they  have  been  so  much  in  their  books  that 
they  have  neglected  everything  that  was  not  necessary  to  the 
immediate  task  of  passing  the  school  years  successfully.  Miss 
Keller  will  never  be  able,  I  believe,  to  speak  loud  without 
destroying  the  pleasant  quality  and  the  distinctness  of  her 
words,  but  she  can  do  much  to  make  her  speech  clearer. 

When  she  was  at  the  Wright-Humason  School  in  New  York, 
Dr.  Humason  tried  to  improve  her  voice,  not  only  her  word 
pronunciation,  but  the  voice  itself,  and  gave  her  lessons  in  tone 
and  vocal  exercises. 

It  is  hard  to  say  whether  or  not  Miss  Keller's  speech  is  easy 
to  understand.  Some  understand  her  readily;  others  do  not. 
Her  friends  grow  accustomed  to  her  speech  and  forget  that  it  is 
different  from  that  of  any  one  else.  Children  seldom  have  any 
difficulty  in  understanding  her;  which  suggests  that  her  delib 
erate,  measured  speech  is  like  theirs,  before  they  come  to  the 
adult  trick  of  running  all  the  words  of  a  phrase  into  one  move 
ment  of  the  breath.  I  am  told  that  Miss  Keller  speaks  better 
than  most  other  deaf  people. 

Miss  Keller  has  told  how  she  learned  to  speak.*    Miss  Sulli- 

•Page  fr 


3  86         A  SUPPLEMENTARY  ACCOUNT 

van's  account  in  her  address  at  Chautauqua,  in  July,  1894, 
at  the  meeting  of  The  American  Association  to  Promote  the 
Teaching  of  Speech  to  the  Deaf,  is  substantially  like  Miss  Keller's 
in  points  of  fact. 


MISS  SULLIVAN'S  ACCOUNT  OF  MISS  KELLER'S  SPEECH 

It  was  three  years  from  the  time  when  Helen  began  to  com 
municate  by  means  of  the  manual  alphabet  that  she  received 
her  first  lesson  in  the  more  natural  and  universal  medium  of 
human  intercourse — oral  language.  She  had  become  very  profi 
cient  in  the  use  of  the  manual  alphabet,  which  was  her  only 
means  of  communication  with  the  outside  world;  through 
it  she  had  acquired  a  vocabulary  which  enabled  her  to  converse 
freely,  read  intelligently,  and  write  with  comparative  ease 
and  correctness.  Nevertheless,  the  impulse  to  utter  audible 
sounds  was  strong  within  her,  and  the  constant  efforts  which 
I  made  to  repress  this  instinctive  tendency,  which  I  feared  in 
time  would  become  unpleasant,  were  of  no  avail.  I  made  no 
effort  to  teach  her  to  speak,  because  I  regarded  her  inability  to 
watch  the  lips  of  others  as  an  insurmountable  obstacle.  But 
she  gradually  became  conscious  that  her  way  of  communicating 
was  different  from  that  used  by  those  around  her,  and  one  day 
her  thoughts  found  expression.  "How  do  the  blind  girls  know 
what  to  say  with  their  mouths?  Why  do  you  not  teach  me  to 
talk  like  them?  Do  deaf  children  ever  learn  to  speak?"  I 
explained  to  her  that  some  deaf  children  were  taught  to  speak, 
but  that  they  could  see  their  teachers'  mouths,  and  that  that 
was  a  very  great  assistance  to  them.  But  she  interrupted  me 
to  say  she  was  very  sure  she  could  feel  my  mouth  very  well. 
Soon  after  this  conversatiou,  a  lady  came  to  see  her  and  told 
her  about  the  deaf  and  blind  Norwegian  child,  Ragnhild  Kaata, 
who  had  been  taught  to  speak  and  understand  what  her  teacher 
said  to  her  by  touching  his  lips  with  her  fingers.  She  at  once 
resolved  to  learn  to  speak,  and  from  that  day  to  this  she  has 
never  wavered  in  that  resolution.  She  began  immediately 
to  make  sounds  which  she  called  speaking,  and  I  saw  the  neces 
sity  of  correct  instruction,  since  her  heart  was  set  upon  learning 
to  talk;  and,  feeling  my  own  incompetence  to  teach  her,  never 


SPEECH  387 

having  given  the  subject  of  articulation  serious  study,  I 
went  with  my  pupil,  for  advice  and  assistance,  to  Miss  Sarah 
Fuller.  Miss  Fuller  was  delighted  with  Helen's  earnestness  and 
enthusiasm,  and  at  once  began  to  teach  her.  In  a  few  lessons 
she  learned  nearly  all  of  the  English  sounds,  and  in  less  than  a 
•month  she  was  able  to  articulate  a  great  many  words  distinctly. 
From  the  first  she  was  not  content  to  be  drilled  in  single 
sounds,  but  was  impatient  to  pronounce  words  and  sentences. 
The  length  of  the  word  or  the  difficulty  of  the  arrangement 
of  the  elements  never  seemed  to  discourage  her.  But,  with 
all  her  eagerness  and  intelligence,  learning  to  speak  taxed  her 
powers  to  the  utmost.  But  there  was  satisfaction  in  seeing 
from  day  to  day  the  evidence  of  growing  mastery  and  the 
possibility  of  final  success.  And  Helen's  success  has  been  more 
complete  and  inspiring  than  any  of  her  friends  expected,  and 
the  child's  delight  in  being  able  to  utter  her  thoughts  in  living 
and  distinct  speech  is  shared  by  all  who  witness  her  pleasure 
when  strangers  tell  her  that  they  understand  her. 

I  have  been  asked  a  great  many  times  whether  I  think  Helen 
Will  ever  speak  naturally;  that  is,  as  other  people  speak.  I  am 
hardly  prepared  to  decide  that  question,  or  even  give  an  opinion 
regarding  it.  I  believe  that  I  have  hardly  begun  yet  to  know 
what  is  possible.  Teachers  of  the  deaf  often  express  surprise 
that  Helen's  speech  is  so  good  when  she  has  not  received  any 
regular  instruction  in  speech  since  the  first  few  lessons  given 
her  by  Miss  Fuller.  I  can  only  say  in  reply,  "This  is  due  to 
habitual  imitation  and  practice  !  practice  !  practice  !"  Nature 
has  determined  how  the  child  shall  learn  to  speak,  and  all  we 
can  do  is  to  aid  him  in  the  simplest,  easiest  way  possible,  by 
encouraging  him  to  observe  and  imitate  the  vibrations  in  the 
voice. 


Some  further  details  appear  in  an  earlier,  more  detailed 
account,  which  Miss  Sullivan  wrote  for  the  Perkins  Institution 
Report  of  1891. 

I  knew  that  Laura  Bridgman  had  shown  the  same  intuitive 
desire  to  produce  sounds,  and  had  even  learned  to  pronounce 


388      A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 

a  few  simple  words,  which  she  took  great  delight  in  using,  and 
1  did  not  doubt  that  Helen  could  accomplish  as  much  as  this. 
I  thought,  however,  that  the  advantage  she  would  derive  would 
not  repay  her  for  the  time  and  labour  that  such  an  experiment 
would  cost. 

Moreover,  the  absence  of  hearing  renders  the  voice  monoto 
nous  and  often  very  disagreeable;  and  such  speech  is  generally 
unintelligible  except  to  those  familiar  with  the  speaker. 

The  acquiring  of  speech  by  untaught  deaf  children  is  always 
slow  and  often  painful.  Too  much  stress,  it  seems  to  me,  is 
often  laid  upon  the  importance  of  teaching  a  deaf  child  to 
articulate — a  process  which  may  be  detrimental  to  the  pupil's 
intellectual  development.  In  the  very  nature  of  things,  articu 
lation  is  an  unsatisfactory  means  of  education;  while  the  use  of 
the  manual  alphabet  quickens  and  invigorates  mental  activity, 
since  through  it  the  deaf  child  is  brought  into  close  contact  with 
the  English  language,  and  the  highest  and  most  abstract  ideas 
may  be  conveyed  to  the  mind  readily  and  accurately.  Helen's 
case  proved  it  to  be  also  an  invaluable  aid  in  acquiring  articu 
lation.  She  was  already  perfectly  familiar  with  words  and  the 
construction  of  sentences,  and  had  only  mechanical  difficulties 
to  overcome.  Moreover,  she  knew  what  a  pleasure  speech 
would  be  to  her,  and  this  definite  knowledge  of  what  she  was 
striving  for  gave  her  the  delight  of  anticipation  which  made 
drudgery  easy.  The  untaught  deaf  child  who  is  made  to  articu 
late  does  not  know  what  the  goal  is,  and  his  lessons  in  speech 
are  for  a  long  time  tedious  and  meaningless. 

Before  describing  the  process  of  teaching  Helen  to  speak, 
it  may  be  well  to  state  briefly  to  what  extent  she  had  used  the 
vocal  organs  before  she  began  to  receive  regular  instruction 
in  articulation.  When  she  was  stricken  down  with  the  illness 
which  resulted  in  her  loss  of  sight  and  hearing,  at  the  age  of 
nineteen  months,  she  was  learning  to  talk.  The  unmeaning 
babblings  of  the  infant  were  becoming  day  by  day  conscious 
and  voluntary  signs  of  what  she  felt  and  thought.  But  the 
disease  checked  her  progress  in  the  acquisition  of  oral  language, 
and,  when  her  physical  strength  returned,  it  was  found  that  she 
had  ceased  to  speak  intelligibly  because  she  could  no  longer 
hear  a  sound.  She  continued  to  exercise  her  vocal  organs 
mechanically,  as  ordinary  children  do.  Her  cries  and  laughter 
the  tones  of  her  voice  as  she  pronounced  many  word  ele- 


SPEECH  389 

merits  were  perfectly  natural,  but  the  child  evidently  attached 
no  significance  to  them,  and  with  one  exception  they  were 
produced  not  with  any  intention  of  communicating  with  those 
around  her,  but  from  the  sheer  necessity  of  exercising  her 
innate,  organic,  and  hereditary  faculty  of  expression.  She 
always  attached  a  meaning  to  the  word  water,  which  was  one 
of  the  first  sounds  her,  baby  lips  learned  to  form,  and  it  was 
the  only  word  which  she  continued  to  articulate  after  she 
lost  her  hearing.  Her  pronunciation  of  this  gradually  became 
indistinct,  and  when  I  first  knew  her  ;t  -vas  nothing  more  than 
a  peculiar  noise.  Nevertheless,  it  was  the  only  sign  she  ever 
made  for  water,  and  not  until  she  had  learned  to  spell  the  word 
with  her  fingers  did  she  forget  the  spoken  symbol.  The  word 
water,  and  the  gesture  which  corresponds  to  the  word  good-by, 
seem  to  have  been  all  that  the  child  remembered  of  the  natural 
and  acquired  signs  with  which  she  had  been  familiar  before 
her  illness. 

As  she  became  acquainted  with  her  surroundings  through  the 
sense  of  feeling  (I  use  the  word  in  the  broadest  sense,  as  includ 
ing  all  tactile  impressions) ,  she  felt  more  and  more  the  pressing 
necessity  of  communicating  with  those  around  her.  Her 
kittle  hands  felt  every  object  and  observed  every  movement 
of  the  persons  about  her,  and  she  was  quick  to  imitate  these 
movements.  She  was  thus  able  to  express  her  more  imperative 
needs  and  many  of  her  thoughts. 

At  the  time  when  I  became  her  teacher,  she  had  made  for 
herself  upward  of  sixty  signs,  all  of  which  were  imitative  and 
were  readily  understood  by  those  who  know  her.  The  only  | 
signs  which  I  think  she  may  have  invented  were  her  signs  for 
small  and  large*  Whenever  she  wished  for  anything  very 
much  she  would  gesticulate  in  a  very  expressive  manner.  Failing  I 
to  make  herself  understood,  she  would  become  violent.  In 
the  years  of  her  mental  imprisonment  she  depended  entirely 
upon  signs,  and  she  did  not  work  out  for  herself  any  sort  of 
articulate  language  capable  of  expressing  ideas.  It  seems, 
however,  that,  while  she  was  still  suffering  from  severe  pain,  she 
noticed  the  movements  of  her  mother's  lips. 

When  she  was  not  occupied,  she  wandered  restlessly  about 
the  house,  making  strange  though  rarely  unpleasant  sounds 

Bee  Pages  319  and  338. 


390      A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 

I  have  seen  her  rock  her  doll,  making  a  continuous,  monotonous 
sound,  keeping  one  hand  on  her  throat,  while  the  fingers  of  the 
other  hand  noted  the  movements  of  her  lips.  This  was  in 
imitation  of  her  mother's  crooning  to  the  baby.  Occasionally 
she  broke  out  into  a  merry  laugh,  and  then  she  would  reach  out 
and  touch  the  mouth  of  any  one  who  happened  to  be  near  her, 
to  see  if  he  were  laughing  also.  If  she  detected  no  smile,  she 
gesticulated  excitedly,  trying  to  convey  her  thought;  but  if  she 
failed  to  make  her  companion  laugh,  she  sat  still  for  a  few 
moments,  with  a  troubled  and  disappointed  expression.  She  was 
pleased  with  anything  which  made  a  noise.  She  liked  to  feel 
the  cat  purr;  and  if  by  chance  she  felt  of  a  dog  in  the  act  of 
barking,  she  showed  great  pleasure.  She  always  liked  to  stand 
by  the  piano  when  some  one  was  playing  and  singing.  She 
kept  one  hand  on  the  singer's  mouth,  while  the  other  rested  on 
the  piano,  and  she  stood  in  this  position  as  long  as  any  one 
would  sing  to  her;  and  afterward  she  would  make  a  continuous 
sound  which  she  called  singing.  The  only  words  she  had 
learned  to  pronounce  with  any  degree  of  distinctness  previous 
to  March,  1890,  were  papa,  mamma,  baby,  sister.  These 
words  she  had  caught  without  instruction  from  the  lips  of 
friends.  It  will  be  seen  that  they  contain  three  vowel  and 
six  consonant  elements,  and  these  formed  the  foundation  for  her 
first  real  lesson  in  speaking. 

At  the  end  of  the  first  lesson  she  was  able  to  pronounce  dis 
tinctly  the  following  sounds:  a,  a,  d,  e,  f,  6,  c  soft  like  5  and  hard 
like  k,  g  hard,  b,  I,  n,  m,  t,  p,  s,  u,  k,  f  and  d.  Hard  consonants 
were,  and  indeed  still  are,  very  difficult  for  her  to  pronounce 
in  connection  with  one  another  in  the  same  word;  she  often 
suppresses  the  one  and  changes  the  other,  and  sometimes  she 
replaces  both  by  an  analogous  sound  with  soft  aspiration. 
The  confusion  between  /  and  r  was  very  noticeable  in  her  speech 
at  first.  She  would  repeatedly  use  one  for  the  other.  The 
great  difficulty  in  the  pronunciation  of  the  r  made  it  one  of  the 
last  elements  which  she  mastered.  The  ch,  sh  and  soft  g  also 
gave  her  much  trouble,  and  she  does  not  yet  enunciate  them 
clearly.* 

When  she  had  been  talking  for  less  than  a  week,  she  met  her 
friend,  Mr.  Rodocanachi,  and  immediately  began  to  struggle 

*The  difficulties  which  Miss  Sullivan  found  in  1891  are,  in  a  measure,  th» 
difficulties  which  show  in  Miss  Keller's  speech  to-day. 


SPEECH  391 

with  the  pronunciation  of  his  name;  nor  would  she  give  it  up 
until  she  was  able  to  articulate  the  word  distinctly.  Her 
interest  never  diminished  for  a  moment;  and,  in  her  eagerness 
to  overcome  the  difficulties  which  beset  her  on  all  sides,  she 
taxed  her  powers  to  the  utmost,  and  learned  in  eleven  lessons 
all  of  the  separate  elements  of  speech. 


Enough  appears  in  the  accounts  by  Miss  Keller's  teacher 
to  show  the  process  by  which  she  reads  the  lips  with  her  fingers, 
the  process  by  which  she  was  taught  to  speak,  and  by  which,  of 
course,  she  can  listen  to  conversation  now.  In  reading  the 
lips  she  is  not  so  quick  or  so  accurate  as  some  reports  declare.  It 
is  a  clumsy  and  unsatisfactory  way  of  receiving  communication, 
useless  when  Miss  Sullivan  or  some  one  else  who  knows  the 
manual  alphabet  is  present  to  give  Miss  Keller  the  spoken  words 
of  others.  Indeed,  when  some  friend  is  trying  to  speak  to 
Miss  Keller,  and  the  attempt  is  not  proving  successful,  Miss 
Sullivan  usually  helps  by  spelling  the  lost  words  into  Miss 
Keller's  hand. 

President  Roosevelt  had  little  difficulty  last  spring  in  making 
Miss  Keller  understand  him,  and "  especially  requested  Miss 
Sullivan  not  to  spell  into  her  hand.  She  got  every  word,  for 
the  President's  speech  is  notably  distinct.  Other  people  say 
they  have  no  success  in  making  Miss  Keller  "hear"  them. 

A  few  friends  to  whom  she  is  accustomed,  like  Mrs.  A.  C.  Pratt, 
and  Mr.  J.  E.  Chamberlin,  can  pass  a  whole  day  with  her  and 
tell  her  everything  without  the  manual  alphabet.  The  ability 
to  read  the  lips  helps  Miss  Keller  in  getting  corrections  of  her 
pronunciation  from  Miss  Sullivan  and  others,  just  as  it  was 
the  means  of  her  learning  to  speak  at  all,  but  it  is  rather  an 
accomplishment  than  a  necessity. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  speech  contributed  in  no  way  to 
her  fundamental  education,  though  without  the  ability  to  speak 
she  could  hardly  have  gone  to  higher  schools  and  to  college. 
But  she  knows  better  than  any  one  else  what  value  speech 
has  had  for  her.  The  following  is  her  address  at  the  fifth 
meeting  of  the  American  Association  to  Promote  the  Teaching 


392         A  SUPPLEMENTARY  ACCOUNT 

of  Speech  to  the  Deaf,  at  Mt.  Airy,  Philadelphia,  Pennsylvania, 
July  8,  1896: 

ADDRESS  OP  HELEN  KELLER  AT  MT.  AIRY 

IF  you  knew  all  the  joy  I  feel  in  being  able  to  speak  to  you 
;o-day,  I  think  you  would  have  some  idea  of  the  value  of  speech 
to  the  deaf,  and  you  would  understand  why  I  want  every  little 
deaf  child  in  all  this  great  world  to  have  an  opportunity  to 
learn  to  speak.  I  know  that  much  has  been  said  and  written 
on  this  subject,  and  that  there  is  a  wide  difference  of  opinion 
among  teachers  of  the  deaf  in  regard  to  oral  instruction.  It 
seems  very  strange  to  me  that  there  should  be  this  difference  of 
opinion;  I  cannot  understand  how  any  one  interested  in  our 
education  can  fail  to  appreciate  the  satisfaction  we  feel  in  being 
able  to  express  our  thoughts  in  living  words.  Why,  I  use 
speech  constantly,  and  I  cannot  begin  to  tell  you  how  much 
pleasure  it  gives  me  to  do  so.  Of  course  I  know  that  it  is  not 
always  easy  for  strangers  to  understand  me,  but  it  will  be  ly 
and  by;  and  in  the  meantime  I  have  the  unspeakable  happiness 
of  knowing  that  my  family  and  friends  rejoice  in  my  ability  to 
speak.  My  little  sister  and  baby  brother  love  to  have  me 
tell  them  stories  in  the  long  summer  evenings  when  I  am  a\ 
home;  and  my  mother  and  teacher  often  ask  me  to  read  to 
them  from  my  favourite  books.  I  also  discuss  the  political 
situation  with  my  dear  father,  and  we  decide  the  most  per 
plexing  questions  quite  as  satisfactorily  to  ourselves  as  if  I 
could  see  and  hear.  So  you  see  what  a  blessing  speech  is  to 
me.  It  brings  me  into  closer  and  tenderer  relationship  with 
those  I  love,  and  makes  it  possible  for  me  to  enjoy  the  sweet 
companionship  of  a  great  many  persons  from  whom  I  should 
he  entirely  cut  off  if  I  could  not  talk. 

I  can  remember  the  time  before  I  learned  to  speak,  and  how 
I  used  to  struggle  to  express  my  thoughts  by  means  of  the 
manual  alphabet — how  my  thoughts  used  to  beat  against  my 
finger  tips  like  little  birds  striving  to  gain  their  freedom,  until 
one  day  Miss  Fuller  opened  wide  the  prison-door  and  let  then? 
escape.  I  wonder  if  she  remembers  how  eagerly  and  gladly 
they  spread  their  wings  and  flew  away.  Of  course,  it  was  not 
easy  at  first  to  fly.  The  speech-wings  were  weak  and  broken 
and  had  lost  all  the  grace  and  beauty  that  had  once  been  theirs; 


SPEECH  393 

indeed,  nothing  was  left  save  the  impulse  to  fly,  but  that  was 
something.  One  can  never  consent  to  creep  when  one  feels  an 
impulse  to  soar.  But,  nevertheless,  it  seemed  to  me  sometimes 
that  I  could  never  use  my  speech-wings  as  God  intended  I 
should  use  them;  there  were  so  many  difficulties  in  the  way, 
so  many  discouragements;  but  I  kept  on  trying,  knowing  that 
patience  and  perseverance  would  win  in  the  end.  And  while 
I  worked,  I  built  the  most  beautiful  air-castles,  and  dreamed 
dreams,  the  pleasantest  of  which  was  of  the  time  when  I  should 
talk  like  other  people;  and  the  thought  of  the  pleasure  it  would 
give  my  mother  to  hear  my  voice  once  more,  sweetened  every 
effort  and  made  every  failure  an  incentive  to  try  harder  next 
time.  So  I  want  to  say  to  those  who  are  trying  to  learn  to 
speak  and  those  who  are  teaching  them:  Be  of  good  cheer. 
Do  not  think  of  to-day's  failures,  but  of  the  success  that  may 
come  to-morrow.  You  have  set  yourselves  a  difficult  task,  but 
you  will  succeed  if  you  persevere;  and  you  will  find  a  joy  in 
overcoming  obstacles — a  delight  in  climbing  rugged  paths, 
which  you  would  perhaps  never  know  if  you  did  not  sometime 
slip  backward — if  the  road  was  always  smooth  and  pleasant. 
Remember,  no  effort  that  we  make  to  attain  something  beautiful 
is  ever  lost.  Sometime,  somewhere,  somehow  we  shall  find 
that  which  we  seek.  We  shall  speak,  yes,  and  sing,  too,  as 
God  intended  we  should  speak  and  sing. 


CHAPTER  V 

LITERARY   STYLB 

No  one  can  have  read  Miss  Keller's  autobiography  without 
feeling  that  she  writes  unusually  line  English.  Any  teachet 
Of  composition  knows  that  he  can  bring  his  pupils  to  the  point 
of  writing  without  errors  in  syntax  or  in  the  choice  of  words 
It  is  just  this  accuracy  which  Miss  Keller's  early  education 
fixes  as  the  point  to  which  any  healthy  child  can  be  brought, 
and  which  the  analysis  of  that  education  accounts  for.  Those 
who  try  to  make  her  an  exception,  not  to  be  explained  by  any 
such  analysis  of  her  early  education,  fortify  their  position  by 
an  appeal  to  the  remarkable  excellence  of  her  use  of  language 
even  when  she  was  a  child. 

Phis  appeal  is  to  a  certain  degree  valid;  for,  indeed,  those 
additional  harmonies  of  language  and  beauties  of  thought  which 
make  style  are  the  gifts  of  the  gods.  No  teacher  could  have 
made  Helen  Keller  sensitive  to  the  beauties  of  language  and 
to  the  finer  interplay  of  thought  which  demands  expression  in 
melodious  word  groupings. 

At  the  same  time  the  inborn  gift  of  style  can  be  starved 
or  stimulated.  No  innate  genius  can  invent  fine  language. 
The  stuff  of  which  good  style  is  made  must  be  given  to 
the  mind  from  without  and  given  skilfully.  A  child  of  the 
muses  cannot  write  fine  English  unless  fine  English  has 
been  its  nourishment.  In  this,  as  in  all  other  things,  Miss 
Sullivan  has  been  the  wise  teacher.  If  she  had  not  had  taste 
and  an  enthusiasm  for  good  English,  Helen  Keller  might  have 
been  brought  up  on  the  "Juvenile  Literature,"  which  belittles 
the  language  under  pretense  of  being  simply  phrased  for  chil 
dren;  as  if  a  child's  book  could  not,  like  "  Treasure  Island"  or 
"Robinson  Crusoe"  or  the  "Jungle  Book,**  be  in  good  style. 

If  Miss  Sullivan  wrote  fine  English,  the  beauty  of  Helen 
Keller's  style  would,  in  part,  be  explicable  at  once.  But  the 
extracts  from  Miss  Sullivan's  letters  and  from  her  reportSr 

394 


LITERARY   STYLE  395 

although  they  are  clear  and  accurate,  have  not  the  beauty  which 
distinguishes  Miss  Keller's  English.  Her  service  as  a  teacher  of 
.English  is  not  to  be  measured  by  her  own  skill  in  composition. 
The  reason  why  she  read  to  her  pupil  so  many  good  books  is  due, 
)n  some  measure,  to  the  fact  that  she  had  so  recently  recovered 
her  eyesight.  When  she  became  Helen  Keller's  teacher  she 
was  just  awakening  to  the  good  things  that  are  in  books,  from 
which  she  had  been  shut  out  during  her  years  of  blindness. 

In  Captain  Keller's  library  she  found  excellent  books, 
Lamb's  "Tales  from  Shakespeare,"  and  better  still,  Montaigne. 
After  the  first  year  or  so  of  elementary  work  she  met  her 
pupil  on  equal  terms,  and  they  read  and  enjoyed  good  books 
together. 

Besides  the  selection  of  good  books,  there  is  one  other  cause 
for  Miss  Keller's  excellence  in  writing,  for  which  Miss  Sullivan 
deserves  unlimited  credit.  That  is  her  tireless  and  unrelenting 
discipline,  which  is  evident  in  all  her  work.  She  never  allowed 
her  pupil  to  send  off  letters  which  contained  offenses  against 
taste,  but  made  her  write  them  over  until  they  were  not  only 
correct,  but  charming  and  well  phrased. 

Any  one  who  has  tried  to  write  knows  what  Miss  Keller  owes 
to  the  endless  practice  which  Miss  Sullivan  demanded  of  hen 
Let  a  teacher  with  a  liking  for  good  style  insist  on  a  child's 
writing  a  paragraph  over  and  over  again  until  it  is  more  than 
correct,  and  he  will  be  training,  even  beyond  his  own  power  of 
expression,  the  power  of  expression  in  the  child. 

How  far  Miss  Sullivan  carried  this  process  of  refinement 
and  selection  is  evident  from  the  humorous  comment  of  Dr. 
Bell,  that  she  made  her  pupil  a  little  old  woman,  too  widely 
different  from  ordinary  children  in  her  maturity  of  thought. 
When  Dr.  Bell  said  this  he  was  arguing  his  own  case.  For 
it  was  Dr.  Bell  who  first  saw  the  principles  that  underlie 
Miss  Sullivan's  method,  and  explained  the  process  by  which 
Helen  Keller  absorbed  language  from  books. 

There  is,  moreover,  a  reason  why  Helen  Keller  writes  good 
English,  which  lies  in  the  very  absence  of  sight  and  hearing. 
The  disadvantages  of  being  deaf  and  blind  were  overcome 
and  the  advantages  remained.  She  excels  other  deaf  people 
because  she  was  taught  as  if  she  were  normal.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  peculiar  value  to  her  of  language,  which  ordinary 
people  take  for  granted  as  a  necessary  part  of  them  like 


396      A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 

their  right  hand,  made  her  think  about  language  and  love  it. 
Language  was  her  liberator,  and  from  the  first  she  cherished  it. 
The  proof  of  Miss  Keller's  early  skill  in  the  use  of  English,  and 
the  final  comment  on  the  excellence  of  this  whole  method  of 
teaching,  is  contained  in  an  incident,  which,  although  at  the  time 
it  seemed  unfortunate,  can  no  longer  be  regretted.  I  refer  to  the 
"Frost  King"  episode,  which  I  shall  explain  in  detail.  Miss 
Keller  has  given  her  account  of  it,  and  the  whole  matter  was 
discussed  in  the  first  Volta  Bureau  Souvenir  from  which  I  quote 
at  length: 

MISS  SULLIVAN'S  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  "  FROST  KING" 

HON.  JOHN  HITZ, 

Superintendent  of  the  Volta  Bureau,  Washington,  D.  C. 

DEAR  SIR:  Since  my  paper  was  prepared  for  the  second 
edition  of  the  Souvenir  "Helen  Keller,"  some  facts  have  been 
brought  to  my  notice  which  are  of  interest  in  connection  with 
the  subject  of  the  acquisition  of  language  by  my  pupil,  and  if 
it  is  not  already  too  late  for  publication  in  this  issue  of  the 
Souvenir,  I  shall  be  glad  if  I  may  have  opportunity  to  explain 
.thern  in  detail. 

Perhaps  it  will  be  remembered  that  in  my  paper,*  where  allu- 

In  this  paper  Miss  Sullivan  says:  "During  this  winter  (1891-92)  I  went 
with  her  into  the  yard  while  a  light  snow  was  falling,  and  let  her  feel  the 
falling  flakes.  She  appeared  to  enjoy  it  very  much  indeed.  As  we  went  in 
she  repeated  these  words,  '  Out  of  the  cloud-folds  of  his  garments  Winter 
shakes  the  snow.'  I  inquired  of  her  where  she  had  read  this;  she  did  not 
remember  having  read  it,  did  not  seem  to  know  that  she  had  learned  it. 
As  I  had  never  heard  it,  I  inquired  of  several  of  my  friends  if  they  re 
called  the  words;  no  one  seemed  to  remember  it.  The  teachers  at  the 
Institution  expressed  the  opinion  that  the  description  did  not  appear  in 
any  book  in  raised  print  in  that  library;  but  one  lady,  Miss  Marrett,  took 
upon  herself  the  task  of  examining  books  of  poems  in  ordinary  type,  and 
was  rewarded  by  rinding  the  following  lines  in  one  of  Longfellow's  minor 
poems,  entitled  'Snowflakes': 

'Out  of  the  bosom  of  the  air, 
Out  of  the  cloud-folds  of  her  garments  shaken, 

Over  the  woodlands  brown  and  bare, 
Over  the  harvest-fields  forsaken, 
Silent,  and  soft,  and  slow, 
Descends  the  snow.' 

"It  would  seem  that  Helen  had  learned  and  treasured  the  memory  of 
this  expression  of  the  poet,  and  this  morning  in  the  snow-storm  had  found 
its  application." 


LITERARY  STYLE  397 

sion  is  mads  to  Helen's  remarkable  memory,  it  is  noted  that 
she  appears  to  retain  in  her  mind  many  forms  of  expression 
which,  at  the  time  they  are  received,  she  probably  does  not 
understand;  but  when  further  information  is  acquired,  the 
language  retained  in  her  memory  finds  full  or  partial  expres 
sion  in  her  conversation  or  writing,  according  as  it  proves  of 
greater  or  less  value  to  her  in  the  fitness  of  its  application  to 
the  new  experience.  Doubtless  this  is  true  in  the  case  of  every 
intelligent  child,  and  should  not,  perhaps,  be  considered  worthy 
of  especial  mention  in  Helen's  case,  but  for  the  fact  that  a  child 
who  is  deprived  of  the  senses  of  sight  and  hearing  might  not 
be  expected  to  be  as  gifted  mentally  as  this  little  girl  proves  to 
be;  hence  it  is  quite  possible  we  may  be  inclined  to  class  as 
marvelous  many  things  we  discover  in  the  development  of  her 
mind  which  do  not  merit  such  an  explanation. 

In  the  hope  that  I  may  be  pardoned  if  I  appear  to  over 
estimate  the  remarkable  mental  capacity  and  power  of  compre- 
nension  and  discrimination  which  my  pupil  possesses,  I  wish 
to  add  that,  while  I  have  always  known  that  Helen  made  great 
use  of  such  descriptions  and  comparisons  as  appeal  to  her  imag 
ination  and  fine  poetic  nature,  yet  recent  developments  in  her 
writings  convince  me  of  the  fact  that  I  have  not  in  the  past  been 
fully  aware  to  what  extent  she  absorbs  the  language  of  her 
favourite  authors.  In  the  early  part  of  her  education  I  had 
full  knowledge  of  all  the  books  she  read  and  of  nearly  all  the 
stories  which  were  read  to  her,  and  could  without  difficulty 
trace  the  source  of  any  adaptations  noted  in  her  writing  or 
conversation;  and  I  have  always  been  much  pleased  to  observ« 
how  appropriately  she  applies  the  expressions  of  a  favourite 
author  in  her  own  compositions. 

The  following  extracts  from  a  few  of  her  published  letters 
give  evidence  of  how  valuable  this  power  of  retaining  the  mem 
ory  of  beautiful  language  has  been  to  her.  One  warm,  sunny 
day  in  early  spring,  when  we  were  at  the  North,  the  balmy 
atmosphere  appears  to  have  brought  to  her  mind  the  sentiment 
expressed  by  Longfellow  in  "Hiawatha,"  and  she  almost  sings 
with  the  poet:  "The  ground  was  all  aquiver  with  the  stir  of 
new  life.  My  heart  sang  for  very  joy.  I  thought  of  iny  own 
dear  home.  I  knew  that  in  that  sunny  land  spring  had  come 
in  all  its  splendour.  'All  its  birds  and  all  its  blossoms,  all  its 
•flowers  and  all  its  Brasses  '  "' 


395      A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 

About  the  same  time,  in  a  letter  to  a  friend,  in  which  sin 
makes  mention  of  her  Southern  home,  she  gives  so  close  a 
reproduction  from  a  poem  by  one  of  her  favourite  authors  that  1 
will  give  extracts  from  Helen's  letter  and  from  the  poem  itself; 


EXTRACTS    FROM    HELEN'S 
LETTER 

\The  entire  letter  is  published 
on  pp.  245  and  246  of  the  Re" 
port  of  the  Perkins  Institution 
jor  1891] 

The  blue-bird  with  his  azure 
plumes,  the  thrush  clad  all  in 
brown,  the  robin  jerking  his 
spasmodic  throat,  the  oriole 
drifting  like  a  flake  of  fire, 
the  jolly  bobolink  and  his 
happy  mate,  the  mocking-bird 
imitating  the  notes  of  all,  the 
red-bird  with  his  one  sweet 
trill,  and  the  busy  little  wren, 
are  all  making  the  trees  in 
our  front  yard  ring  with  their 
glad  songs. 


FROM  THE  POEM  ENTITLED 
*'  SPRING,"  BY  OLIVER  WEN 
DELL  HOLMES 

The  bluebird,  breathing  from 
his  azure  plumes 

The  fragrance  borrowed  from 
the  myrtle  blooms; 

The  thrush,  poor  wanderer, 
dropping  meekly  down, 

Clad  in  his  remnant  of  autum 
nal  brown; 

The  oriole,  drifting  like  a  flake 
of  fire 

Rent  by  a  whirlwind  from  a 
blazing  spire ; 

The  robin,  jerking  his  spas- 
modic  throat, 

Repeats  imperious,  his  stac 
cato  note; 

The  crack-brained  bobolink 
courts  his  crazy  mate, 

Poised  on  a  bullrush  tipsy 
with  his  weight: 

Nay,  in  his  cage  the  lone 
canary  sings, 

Feels  the  soft  air,  and  spread* 
his  idle  wings. 


On  the  last  day  of  April  she  uses  another  expression  from 
the  same  poem,  which  is  more  an  adaption  than  a  reproduc 
tion:  "To-morrow  April  will  hide  her  tears  and  blushes  beneath 
the  flowers  of  lovely  May." 

In  a  letter  to  a  friend*  at  the  Perkins  Institution,  dated  May 
17,  1889,  she  gives  a  reproduction  from  one  of  Hans  Christiac 


*Page  170- 


LITERARY   STYLE  399 

/Vndersen's  stories,  which  I  had  read  to  her  not  long  before. 
This  letter  is  published  in  the  Perkins  Institution  Report  (1891), 
p.  204.  The  original  story  was  read  to  her  from  a  copy  oi 
"Andersen's  Stories,"  published  by  Leavitt  &  Allen  Bros.,  and 
jnay  be  found  on  p,  97  of  Part  I.  in  that  volume* 

Her  admiration  for  the  impressive  explanations  which  Bishop 
Brooks  has  given  her  of  the  Fatherhood  of  God  is  well  known. 
In  one  of  his  letters,  speaking  of  how  God  in  every  way  tells  us 
of  his  love,  he  says,  "I  think  he  writes  it  even  upon  the  walls 
of  the  great  house  of  nature  which  we  live  in,  that  he  is  our 
Father."  The  next  year  at  Andover  she  said:  "It  seems  to 
me  the  world  is  full  of  goodness,  beauty,  and  love;  and  how 
grateful  we  must  be  to  our  heavenly  Father,  who  has  given  us 
BO  much  to  enjoy  I  His  love  and  care  are  written  all  over  the 
walls  of  nature." 

In  these  later  years,  since  Helen  has  come  in  contact  with  so 
many  persons  who  are  able  to  converse  freely  with  her,  she  has 
Hade  the  acquaintance  of  some  literature  with  which  I  am  not 
familiar;  she  has  also  found  in  books  printed  in  raised  letters, 
In  the  reading  of  which  I  have  been  unable  to  follow  her,  much 
material  for  the  cultivation  of  the  taste  she  possesses  for  poetical 
imagery.  The  pages  of  the  book  she  reads  become  to  her 
like  paintings,  to  which  her  imaginative  powers  give  life  and 
colour.  She  is  at  once  transported  into  the  midst  of  the  events 
portrayed  in  the  story  she  reads  or  is  told,  and  the  characters 
and  descriptions  become  real  to  her;  she  rejoices  when  justice 
wins,  and  is  sad  when  virtue  goes  unrewarded.  The  pictures 
the  language  paints  on  her  memory  appear  to  make  an  indelible 
impression;  and  many  times,  when  an  experience  comes  to 
her  similar  in  character,  the  language  starts  forth  with  wonder 
ful  accuracy,  like  the  reflection  from  a  mirror. 

Helen's  mind  is  so  gifted  by  nature  that  she  seems  able  to 
understand  with  only  the  faintest  touch  of  explanation  every 
possible  variety  of  external  relations.  One  day  in  Alabama,  as 
we  were  gathering  wild  flowers  near  the  springs  on  the  hill 
sides,  she  seemed  to  understand  for  the  first  time  that  the 
springs  were  surrounded  by  mountains,  and  she  exclaimed: 
""The  mountains  are  crowding  around  the  springs  to  look  at 
their  own  beautiful  reflections!"  I  do  not  know  where  she 
obtained  this  language,  yet  it  is  evident  that  it  must  have 
come  to  her  from  without,  as  it  would  hardly  be  possible  for  9 


400      A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 

person  deprived  of  the  visual  sense  to  originate  such  an  idea. 
In  mentioning  a  visit  to  Lexington,  Mass.,  she  writes:  "As 
we  rode  along  we  could  see  the  forest  monarchs  bend  theit 
proud  forms  to  listen  to  the  little  children  of  the  woodlands 
whispering  their  secrets.  The  anemone,  the  wild  violet,  the 
hepatica,  and  the  funny  little  curled-up  ferns  all  peeped  out  at 
us  from  beneath  the  brown  leaves."  She  closes  this  letter 
with,  "I  must  go  to  bed,  for  Morpheus  has  touched  my  eye 
lids  with  his  golden  wand."  Here  again,  I  am  unable  to  state 
where  she  acquired  these  expressions. 

She  has  always  seemed  to  prefer  stories  which  exercise  the 
imagination,  and  catches  and  retains  the  poetic  spirit  in  all  such 
literature;  but  not  until  this  winter  have  I  been  conscious  that 
her  memory  absorbed  the  exact  language  to  such  an  extent 
that  she  is  herself  unable  to  trace  the  source. 

This  is  shown  in  a  little  story  she  wrote  in  October  last 
at  the  home  of  her  parents  in  Tuscumbia,  which  she  called 
"Autumn  Leaves."  She  was  at  work  upon  it  about  two  weeks, 
writing  a  little  each  day,  at  her  own  pleasure.  When  it  was 
finished,  and  we  read  it  in  the  family,  it  occasioned  much  com" 
ment  on  account  of  the  beautiful  imagery,  and  we  could  not 
understand  how  Helen  could  describe  such  pictures  without 
the  aid  of  sight.  As  we  had  never  seen  or  heard  of  any  such 
story  as  this  before,  we  inquired  of  her  where  she  read  it;  she 
replied,  "I  did  not  read  it;  it  is  my  story  for  Mr.  Anagnos's 
birthday."  While  I  was  surprised  that  she  could  write  like 
this,  I  was  not  more  astonished  than  I  had  been  many  times 
before  at  the  unexpected  achievements  of  my  little  pupil, 
especially  as  we  had  exchanged  many  beautiful  thoughts  on 
the  subject  of  the  glory  of  the  ripening  foliage  during  the  autumn 
of  this  year. 

Before  Helen  made  her  final  copy  of  the  story,  it  was  sug 
gested  to  her  to  change  its  title  to  "The  Frost  King,"  as  more 
appropriate  to  the  subject  of  which  the  story  treated;  to  this 
she  willingly  assented.  The  story  was  written  by  Helen  in 
braille,  as  usual,  and  copied  by  her  in  the  same  manner;  I 
then  interlined  the  manuscript  for  the  greater  convenience  of 
those  who  desired  to  read  it.  Helen  wrote  a  little  letter,  and, 
enclosing  the  manuscript,  forwarded  both  by  mail  to  Mr.  Anagnoa 
for  his  birthday. 

story  was  printed  in  the  January  number  of  the  Mentor 


MISS   SULLIVAN   READING 


Photograph  by  Marshall,  1902 

TO   MISS   KELLER 


LITERARY  STYLE  401 

and,  from  a  review  of  it  in  the  Goodson  Gazette,  I  was  startled 
to  find  that  a  very  similar  story  had  been  published  in  1873, 
seven  years  before  Helen  was  born.  This  story,  "Frost  Fairies," 
appeared  in  a  book  written  by  Miss  Margaret  T.  Canby,  entitled 
"  Birdie  and  his  Fairy  Friends."  The  passages  quoted  from  the 
two  stories  were  so  much  alike  in  thought  and  expression  as  to 
convince  me  that  Miss  Canby's  story  must  at  some  time  have 
been  read  to  Helen. 

As  I  had  never  read  this  story,  or  even  heard  of  the  book, 
I  inquired  of  Helen  if  she  knew  anything  about  the  matter, 
and  found  she  did  not.  She  was  utterly  unable  to  recall  either 
the  name  of  the  story  or  the  book.  Careful  examination  was 
made  of  the  books  in  raised  print  in  the  library  of  the  Perkins 
Institution  to  learn  if  any  extracts  from  this  volume  could 
be  found  there;  but  nothing  was  discovered.  I  then  concluded 
that  the  story  must  have  been  read  to  her  a  long  time  ago,  as 
her  memory  usually  retains  with  great  distinctness  facts  and 
impressions  which  have  been  committed  to  its  keeping. 

After  making  careful  inquiry,  I  succeeded  in  obtaining  the 
information  that  our  friend,  Mrs.  S.  C.  Hopkins,  had  a  copy  of 
this  book  in  1888  which  was  presented  to  her  little  daughter 
in  1873  or  1874.  Helen  and  I  spent  the  summer  of  1888  with 
Mrs.  Hopkins  at  her  home  in  Brewster,  Mass.,  where  she  kindly 
relieved  me  a  part  of  the  time,  of  the  care  of  Helen.  She 
amused  and  entertained  Helen  by  reading  to  her  from  a  collection 
of  juvenile  publications,  among  which  was  the  copy  of  "Birdie 
and  his  Fairy  Friends";  and,  while  Mrs.  Hopkins  does  not 
remember  this  story  of  "Frost  Fairies,"  she  is  confident  that  she 
read  to  Helen  extracts,  if  not  entire  stories,  from  this  volume. 
But  as  she  was  not  able  to  find  her  copy,  and  applications  for  the 
volume  at  bookstores  in  Boston,  New  York,  Philadelphia,  Al 
bany,  and  other  places  resulted  only  in  failure,  search  was  insti 
tuted  for  the  author  herself.  This  became  a  difficult  task,  as 
her  publishers  in  Philadelphia  had  retired  from  business  many 
years  ago;  however,  it  was  eventually  discovered  that  her 
residence  is  at  Wilmington,  Delaware,  and  copies  of  the  second 
edition  of  the  book,  1889,  were  obtained  from  her.  She  has 
since  secured  and  forwarded  to  me  a  copy  of  the  first  edition. 

The  most  generous  and  gratifying  letters  have  been  received 
from  Miss  Canby  by  Helen's  friends,  a  few  extracts  from  which 
are  given : 


402         A   SUPPLEMENTARY   ACCOUNT 

Under  date  of  February  24,  1892,  after  mentioning  the  order 
of  the  publication  of  the  stories  in  the  magazine,  she  writes: 

"All  the  stories  were  revised  before  publishing  them  in  book 
form;  additions  were  made  to  the  number  as  first  published,  I 
think,  and  some  of  the  titles  may  have  been  changed." 

In  the  same  letter  she  writes: 

"I  hope  that  you  will  be  able  to  make  her  understand  that  I 
am  glad  she  enjoyed  my  story,  and  that  I  hope  the  new  book 
will  give  her  pleasure  by  renewing  her  friendship  with  the 
Fairies.  I  shall  write  to  her  in  a  short  time.  I  am  so  much 
impressed  with  what  I  have  learned  of  her  that  I  have  written 
a  little  poem  entitled  A  Silent  Singer,  which  I  may  send  to  her 
mother  after  a  while.  Can  you  tell  me  in  what  paper  the 
article  appeared  accusing  Helen  of  plagiarism,  and  giving 
passages  from  both  stories?  I  should  like  much  to  see  it,  and 
to  obtain  a  few  copies  if  possible." 

Under  date  of  March  9,  1892,  Miss  Canby  writes: 

"I  find  traces,  in  the  Report  which  you  so  kindly  sent  me, 
of  little  Helen  having  heard  other  stories  than  that  of  'Frost 
Fairies.'  On  page  132,  in  a  letter,  there  is  a  passage  which 
must  have  been  suggested  by  my  story  called  'The  Rose  Fairies' 
(see  pp.  13-16  of  'Birdie')  and  on  pages  93  and  94  of  the  Report 
the  description  of  a  thunderstorm  is  very  much  like  Birdie's 
idea  of  the  same  in  the  'Dew  Fairies'  on  pages  59  and  60  of  my 
book.  What  a  wonderfully  active  and  retentive  mind  that 
gifted  child  must  have!  If  she  had  remembered  and  written 
down  accurately,  a  short  story,  and  that  soon  after  hearing  it, 
it  would  have  been  a  marvel;  but  to  have  heard  the  story  once, 
three  years  ago,  and  in  such  a  way  that  neither  her  parents  nor 
teacher  could  ever  allude  to  it  or  refresh  her  memory  about 
it,  and  then  to  have  been  able  to  reproduce  it  so  vividly,  even 
adding  some  touches  of  her  own  in  perfect  keeping  with  the 
rest,  which  really  improve  the  original,  is  something  that  very 
few  girls  of  riper  age,  and  with  every  advantage  of  sight,  hearing, 
and  even  great  talents  for  composition,  could  have  done  as 
well,  if  at  all.  Under  the  circumstances,  I  do  not  see  how  any 
one  can  be  so  unkind  as  to  call  it  a  plagiarism;  it  is  a  wonderful 
feat  of  memory,  and  stands  alone,  as  doubtless  much  of  her 
work  will  in  future,  if  her  mental  powers  grow  and  develop  with 
her  years  as  greatly  as  in  the  few  years  past.  I  have  known 
many  children  well,  have  been  surrounded  by  them  all  my  life/ 


LITERARY  STYLE  403 

wnd  love  nothing  better  than  to  talk  with  them,  amuse  them, 
and  quietly  notice  their  traits  of  mind  and  character;  but  I  do 
not  recollect  more  than  one  girl  of  Helen's  age  who  had  the  love 
and  thirst  for  knowledge,  and  the  store  of  literary  and  general 
information,  and  the  skill  in  composition,  which  Helen  possesses. 
She  is  indeed  a  'Wonder-Child.'  Thank  you  very  much  for 
the  Report,  Gazette,  and  Helen's  Journal.  The  last  made  me 
realize  the  great  disappointment  to  the  dear  child  more  than 
before.  Please  give  her  my  warm  love,  and  tell  her  not  to  feel 
troubled  about  it  any  more.  No  one  shall  be  allowed  to  think 
it  was  anything  wrong;  and  some  day  she  will  write  a  great, 
beautiful  story  or  poem  that  will  make  many  people  happy. 
Tell  her  there  are  a  few  bitter  drops  in  every  one's  cup,  and  the 
only  way  is  to  take  the  bitter  patiently,  and  the  sweet  thankfully. 
I  shall  love  to  hear  of  her  reception  of  the  book  and  how  shs 
{ikes  the  stories  which  are  new  to  her." 

I  have  now  (March.  1892)  read  to  Helen  "The  Frost  Fairies," 
"The  Rose  Fairies,"  and  a  portion  of  "The  Dew  Fairies,"  but 
she  is  unable  to  throw  any  light  on  the  matter.  She  recognized 
them  at  once  as  her  own  stories,  with  variations,  and  was  much 
puzzled  to  know  how  they  could  have  been  published  before 
She  was  born  !  She  thinks  it  is  wonderful  that  two  people 
should  write  stories  so  much  alike;  but  she  still  considers  her 
own  as  original. 

I  give  below  a  portion  of  Miss  Canby's  story,  "The  Rose 
Fairies,"  and  also  Helen's  letter  to  Mr.  Anagnos  containing  her 
"dream,"  so  that  the  likenesses  and  differences  may  be  studied 
by  those  interested  in  the  subject: 

THE   ROSE    FAIRIES 

\From  ''Birdie  and  his  Fairy  Friends"  by  Margaret  T.  Canby] 

One  pleasant  morning  little  Birdie  might  have  been  seen 
sitting  quietly  on  the  grass-plat  at  the  side  of  his  mother's 
house,  looking  very  earnestly  at  the  rose-bushes. 

It  was  quite  early;  great  Mr.  Sun,  who  is  such  an  early  riser 
in  summer  time,  had  not  been  up  very  long;  the  birds  were  just 
beginning  to  chirp  their  "good-mornings"  to  each  other;  and 
as  for  che  flowers,  they  were  still  asleep.  But  Birdie  was  so 
busy  all  day,  trotting  about  the  house  and  garden,  that  he  was 
always  ready  for  his  nest  at  night,  before  the  birds  and  flowers 


4o4      A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 

had  thought  of  seeking  theirs;  and  so  it  came  to  pass  that  when 
Mr.  Sun  raised  his  head  above  the  green  woods  and  smiled 
lovingly  upon  the  earth,  Birdie  was  often  the  first  to  see  him, 
and  to  smile  back  at  him,  all  the  while  rubbing  his  eyes  with  his 
dimpled  fists,  until  between  smiling  and  rubbing,  he  was  wide 
awake. 

And  what  do  you  think  he  did  next !  Why,  the  little  rogue 
rolled  into  his  mamma's  bed,  and  kissed  her  eyelids,  her  cheeks, 
and  her  mouth,  until  she  began  to  dream  that  it  was  raining 
kisses;  and  at  last  she  opened  her  eyes  to  see  what  it  all  meant, 
and  found  that  it  was  Birdie,  trying  to  "kiss  her  awake,"  as 
he  said. 

She  loved  her  little  boy  very  dearly,  and  liked  to  make  him 
happy,  and  when  he  said,  "Please  dress  me,  dear  mamma,  and 
let  me  go  out  to  play  in  the  garden,"  she  cheerfully  consented; 
and,  soon  after,  Birdie  went  downstairs  in  his  morning-dress  of 
cool  linen,  and  with  his  round  face  bright  and  rosy  from  its 
bath,  and  raa  out  on  the  gravel  path  to  play  until  breakfast 
was  ready. 

He  stood  still  a  moment  to  look  about  him,  and  think  wh&fr 
he  should  do  first.  The  fresh  morning  air  blew  softly  in  his 
face,  as  if  to  welcome  him  and  be  his  merry  playmate;  and  the 
bright  eye  of  Mr.  Sun  looked  at  him  with  a  warm  and  glowing 
smile;  but  Birdie  soon  walked  on  to  find  something  to  play  with. 
As  he  came  in  sight  of  the  rose-bushes  that  grew  near  the  side 
of  the  house,  he  suddenly  clapped  his  hands,  and  with  a  little 
shout  of  joy  stopped  to  look  at  them;  they  were  all  covered 
with  lovely  rosebuds.  Some  were  red,  some  white,  and  others 
pale  pink,  and  they  were  just  peeping  out  of  the  green  leaves, 
as  rosy-faced  children  peep  out  from  their  warm  beds  in  winter 
time  before  they  are  quite  willing  to  get  up.  A  few  days  before, 
Birdie's  papa  had  told  him  that  the  green  balls  on  the  rose 
bushes  had  beautiful  flowers  shut  up  within  them,  but  the 
little  boy  found  it  hard  to  believe,  for  he  was  so  young  that  he 
did  not  remember  how  pretty  the  roses  had  been  the  summer 
before.  Now  he  found  out  that  his  father's  words  were  true, 
for  a  few  days  of  warm  weather  had  turned  the  green  balls 
into  rosebuds,  and  they  were  so  beautiful  that  it  was  enough 
to  make  Birdie  stand  still  before  them,  his  blue  eyes  dancing 
with  delight  and  his  little  hands  clasped  tightly  together. 

After   awhile   he   went   nearer,   and   looking   closely   at   the 


LITERARY   STYLE  405 

ouds,  found  that  they  were  folded  up,  leaf  over  leaf,  as  eyelids 
are  folded  over  sleeping  eyes,  so  that  Birdie  thought  they  must 
be  asleep.  "Lazy  roses,  wake  up,"  said  he,  giving  the  branches 
a  gentle  shake;  but  only  the  dew  fell  off  in  bright  drops,  and  the 
flowers  were  still  shut  up.  At  last  Birdie  remembered  how  he 
had  awakened  his  mother  with  kisses,  and  thought  he  would 
try  the  same  plan  with  the  roses;  so  he  drew  up  his  red  lips 
until  they  looked  like  a  rosebud,  too,  and  bending  down  a 
branch  with  a  lovely  pink  bud  upon  it,  he  kissed  it  softly  two 
or  three  times. 


Here  the  similarity  in  the  language  of  the  story  to  that  io 
the  letter  ceases, 

HELEN'S  LETTER  TO  MR.  ANAGNOS 
(Written  February  2  and  3,  1890.) 

\This  letter  was  enclosed  in  another  written  in  French,  dated 
Le  i  fevrier  1890.] 

MY  DEAR  MR.  ANAGNOS:  You  will  laugh  when  you  open  you* 
little  friend's  letter  and  see  all  the  queer  mistakes  she  has  made 
in  French,  but  I  think  you  will  be  pleased  to  know  that  I  can 
write  even  a  short  letter  in  French.  It  makes  me  very  happy 
to  please  you  and  my  dear  teacher.  I  wish  I  could  see  your  little 
niece  Amelia.  I  am  sure  we  should  love  each  other.  I  hope 
you  will  bring  some  of  Virginia  Evanghelides'  poems  home 
with  you,  and  translate  them  for  me.  Teacher  and  I  have  just 
returned  from  our  walk.  It  is  a  beautiful  day.  We  met  a 
sweet  little  child.  She  was  playing  on  the  pier  with  a  wee 
brother.  She  gave  me  a  kiss  and  then  ran  away,  because  she 
was  a  shy  little  girl.  I  wonder  if  you  would  like  to  have  me  tell 
you  a  pretty  dream  which  I  had  a  long  time  ago  when  I  was  a 
very  little  child?  Teacher  says  it  was  a  day-dream,  and  she 
thinks  you  would  be  delighted  to  hear  it.  One  pleasant  morning 
in  the  beautiful  springtime,  I  thought  I  was  sitting  on  the  soft 
grass  under  my  dear  mother's  window,  looking  very  earnestly 
at  the  rose-bushes  which  were  growing  all  around  me.  It 
was  quite  early,  the  sun  had  not  been  up  very  long;  the  birds 
were  just  beginning  to  sing  joyously.  The  flowers  were  still 
asleep.  They  would  not  awake  until  the  sun  had  smiled  lov 
ingly  upon  them,  I  was  a  very  happy  little  child  with  rosy 


406      A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 

cheeks,  and  large  blue  eyes,  and  the  most  beautiful  golden 
ringlets  you  can  imagine.  The  fresh  morning  air  blew  gently 
in  my  face,  as  if  to  welcome  me,  and  be  my  merry  playmate, 
and  the  sun  looked  at  me  with  a  warm  and  tender  smile.  I 
clapped  my  chubby  hands  for  joy  when  I  saw  that  the  rose 
bushes  were  covered  with  lovely  buds.  Some  were  red,  some 
white,  and  others  were  delicate  pink,  and  they  were  peeping  out 
from  between  the  green  leaves  like  beautiful  little  fairies.  I 
had  never  seen  anything  so  lovely  before,  for  I  was  very  young 
and  I  could  not  remember  how  pretty  the  roses  had  been  the 
summer  before.  My  little  heart  was  filled  with  a  sweet  joy, 
and  I  danced  around  the  rose-bushes  to  show  my  delight.  After 
a  while  I  went  very  near  to  a  beautiful  white  rose-bush  which 
was  completely  covered  with  buds  and  sparkling  with  dew- 
drops;  I  bent  down  one  of  the  branches  with  a  lovely  pura 
white  bud  upon  it,  and  kissed  it  softly  many  times;  just  then 
I  felt  two  loving  arms  steal  gently  around  me,  and  loving  lips 
kissing  my  eyelids,  my  cheeks,  and  my  mouth,  until  I  began 
to  think  it  was  raining  kisses;  and  at  last  I  opened  my  eyes  to 
see  what  it  all  meant,  and  found  it  was  my  precious  mother, 
who  was  bending  over  me,  trying  to  kiss  me  awake.  Do  you 
like  my  day-dream  ?  If  you  do,  perhaps  I  will  dream  again  for 
you  some  time. 

Teacher  and  all  of  your  friends  send  you  their  love.  I  shall 
be  so  glad  when  you  come  home,  for  I  greatly  miss  you.  Please 
give  my  love  to  your  good  Greek  friends,  and  tell  them  that 
I  shall  come  to  Athens  some  day. 

Lovingly  your  little  friend  and  playmate, 

HELEN  A.  KELLER. 

"The  Frost  Fairies"  and  "The  Frost  King"  are  given  in  full, 
as  the  differences  are  as  important  as  the  resemblances: 

THE  FROST  FAIRIES  '        THE  FROST  KING 

[From  "Birdie  and  his  Fairy  Friends"}  <"• 

BY  MARGARET  T.  CANBY  BY  HELEN  A.  KELLER 

King  Frost,  or  Jack  Frost  as  King  Frost  lives  in  a  beauti- 

he   is   sometimes   called,   lives  ful       bce  faf  tQ  the  North>  in 
in  a  cold  country  far  to  the 

North;  but  every  year  he  takes  the   Iand  of  perpetual     snow, 

a  journey  over  the  world  in  a  The   palace,  which    is   magni- 


LITERARY   STYLE 


407 


car  of  golden  clouds  drawn  by 
a  strong  and  rapid  steed  called 
"North  Wind."  Wherever  he 
goes  he  does  many  wonderful 
things;  he  builds  bridges  over 
every  stream,  clear  as  glass 
in  appearance  but  often  strong 
as  iron;  he  puts  the  flowers  and 
plants  to  sleep  by  one  touch 
of  his  hand,  and  they  all  bow 
down  and  sink  into  the  warm 
earth,  until  spring  returns; 
then,  lest  we  should  grieve  for 
the  flowers,  he  places  at  our 
windows  lovely  wreaths  and 
sprays  of  his  white  northern 
flowers,  or  delicate  little  forests 
of  fairy  pine-trees,  pure  white 
and  very  beautiful.  But  his 
most  wonderful  work  is  the 
painting  of  the  trees,  which 
look,  after  his  task  is  done, 
as  if  they  were  covered  with 
the  brightest  layers  of  gold 
and  rubies;  and  are  beautiful 
enough  to  comfort  us  for  the 
flight  of  summer. 

I  will  tell  you  how  King 
Frost  first  thought  of  this  kind 
work,  for  it  is  a  strange  story. 
You  must  know  that  this  King, 
like  all  other  kings,  has  great 
treasures  of  gold  and  precious 
stones  in  his  palace;  but,  being 
a  good-hearted  old  fellow,  he 
does  not  keep  his  riches 
locked  up  all  the  time,  but 
trtes  to  do  good  and  make 
others  happy  with  them.  He 
has  two  neighbours,  who 
live  still  farther  north;  one  is 


ficent  beyond  description,  was 
built  centuries  ago,  in  the 
reign  of  King  Glacier.  At  a 
little  distance  from  the  palace 
we  might  easily  mistake  it 
for  a  mountain  whose  peaks 
were  mounting  heavenward  to 
receive  the  last  kiss  of  the 
departing  day.  But  on  nearer 
approach  we  should  discover 
our  error.  What  we  had 
supposed  to  be  peaks  were  in 
reality  a  thousand  glittering 
spires.  Nothing  could  be  more 
beautiful  than  the  architec 
ture  of  this  ice-palace.  The 
walls  are  curiously  constructed 
of  massive  blocks  cf  ice  which 
terminate  in  cliff-like  towers. 
The  entrance  to  the  palace  is 
at  the  end  of  an  arched  recess, 
and  it  is  guarded  night  and 
day  by  twelve  soldierly-look 
ing  white  Bears. 

But,  children,  you  must 
make  King  Frost  a  visit  the 
very  first  opportunity  you 
have,  and  see  for  yourselves 
this  wonderful  palace.  The 
old  King  will  welcome  you 
kindly,  for  he  loves  children,, 
and  it  is  his  chief  delight  to 
give  them  pleasure. 


4o8      A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 


King  Winter,  a  cross  and 
churlish  old  monarch,  who  is 
hard  and  cruel,  and  delights 
in  making  the  poor  suffer  and 
weep ;  but  the  other  neighbour 
is  Santa  Claus,  a  fine,  good- 
natured,  jolly  old  soul,  who 
loves  to  do  good,  and  who 
brings  presents  to  the  poor, 
and  to  nice  little  children  at 
Christmas. 

Well,  one  day  King  Frost 
was  trying  to  think  of  some 
good  that  he  could  do  with 
his  treasure;  and  suddenly  he 
concluded  to  send  some  of  it 
to  his  kind  neighbour,  Santa 
Claus,  to  buy  presents  of  food 
and  clothing  for  the  poor, 
that  they  might  not  suffer  so 
much  when  King  Winter  went 
near  their  homes.  So  he  called 
together  his  merry  little  fairies, 
and  showing  them  a  number 
of  jars  and  vases  filled  with 
gold  and  precious  stones,  told 
them  to  carry  those  carefully 
to  the  palace  of  Santa  Claus, 
and  give  them  to  him  with  the 
compliments  of  King  Frost. 
"He  will  know  how  to  make 
good  use  of  the  treasure," 
added  Jack  Frost;  then  he 
told  the  fairies  not  to  loiter 
by  the  way,  but  to  do  his 
bidding  quickly. 

The  fairies  promised  obedi 
ence  and  soon  started  on  their 
journey,  dragging  the  great 
glass  jars  and  vases  along,  as 
well  »s  they  could,  and  now 


You  must  know  that  King 
Frost,  like  all  other  kings,  has 
great  treasures  of  gold  and 
precious  stones;  but  as  he 
is  a  generous  old  monarch, 
he  endeavours  to  make  a  right 
use  of  his  riches.  So  wherever 
he  goes  he  does  many  wonder 
ful  works;  he  builds  bridges 
over  every  stream,  as  trans 
parent  as  glass,  but  often  as 
strong  as  iron;  he  shakes  the 
forest  trees  until  the  ripe  nuts 
fall  into  the  laps  of  laughing 
children;  he  puts  the  flowers 
to  sleep  with  one  touch  of  his 
hand;  then,  lest  we  should 
mourn  for  the  bright  faces  of 
the  flowers,  he  paints  the 
leaves  with  gold  and  crimson 
and  emerald,  and  when  his 
task  is  done  the  trees  are  beau 
tiful  enough  to  comfort  us  for 
the  flight  of  summer.  I  will 
tell  you  how  King  Frost  hap^ 
pened  to  think  of  painting  the 
leaves,  for  it  is  a  strange 
story. 

One  day  while  King  Frost 
was  surveying  his  vast  wealth 
and  thinking  what  good  he 
could  do  with  it,  he  suddenly 
bethought  him  of  his  jolly 
old  neighbour,  Santa  Clau* 


LITERARY  STYLE 


409 


then  grumbling  a.  little  at 
having  such  hard  work  to  do, 
for  they  were  idle  fairies,  and 
liked  play  better  than  work. 
At  last  they  reached  a  great 
forest,  and,  being  quite  tired, 
they  decided  to  rest  awhile 
and  look  for  nuts  before  going 
any  further.  But  lest  the 
treasure  should  be  stolen  from 
them,  they  hid  the  jars  among 
the  thick  leaves  of  the  forest 
trees,  placing  some  high  up 
near  the  top,  and  others  in 
different  parts  of  the  various 
trees,  until  they  thought  no 
one  could  find  them. 

Then  they  began  to  wan 
der  about  and  hunt  for  nuts, 
and  climb  the  trees  to  shake 
them  down,  and  worked  much 
harder  for  their  own  pleasure 
than  they  had  dene  for  their 
master's  bidding,  for  it  is  a 
strange  truth  that  fairies  and 
children  never  complain  of 
the  toil  and  trouble  they 
take  in  search  of  amusement. 
although  they  often  grumble 
when  asked  to  work  for  the 
good  of  others. 

The  frost  fairies  were  so 
busy  and  so  merry  over  their 
nutting  frolic  that  they  soon 
forgot  their  errand  and  their 
king's  command  to  go  quickly; 
but,  as  they  played  and  loit 
ered  in  the  forest  until  noon, 
they  found  the  reason  why 
they  were  told  to  hasten;  for 
although  they  had,  as  they 


UI  will  send  my  treasures  to 
Santa  Glaus,"  said  the  King  to 
himself.  "He  is  the  very  man 
to  dispose  of  them  satisfac 
torily,  for  he  knows  where  the 
poor  and  the  unhappy  live, 
and  his  kind  old  heart  is 
always  full  of  benevolent  plans 
for  their  relief."  So  he  called 
together  the  merry  little  fairies 
of  his  household  and,  showing 
them  the  jars  and  vases  con 
taining  his  treasures,  he  bade 
them  carry  them  to  the  palace 
of  Santa  Claus  as  quickly  as 
they  could.  The  fairies  prom 
ised  obedience,  and  were  off 
in  a  twinkling,  dragging  the 
heavy  jars  and  vases  along 
after  them  as  well  as  they 
could,  now  and  then  grumb 
ling  a  little  at  having  such  a 
hard  task,  for  they  were  idle 
fairies  and  loved  to  play  better 
than  to  work.  After  awhile 
they  came  to  a  great  forest 
and,  being  tired  and  hungry, 
they  thought  they  would  rest 
a  little  and  look  for  nuts 
before  continuing  their  jour 
ney.  But  thinking  their  treas 
ure  might  be  stolen  from 
them,  they  hid  the  jars  among 
the  thick  green  leaves  of  the 


410      A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 


thought,  hidden  the  treasure 
so  carefully,  they  had  not 
secured  it  from  the  power  of 
Mr.  Sun,  who  was  an  enemy 
of  Jack  Frost,  and  delighted 
10  undo  his  work  and  weaken 
him  whenever  he  could. 

His  bright  eyes  found  out 
the  jars  of  treasure  among  the 
trees,  and  as  the  idle  fairies 
left  them  there  until  noon,  at 
which  time  Mr.  Sun  is  the 
strongest,  the  delicate  glass 
began  to  melt  and  break,  and 
before  long  every  jar  and  vase 
was  cracked  or  broken,  and  the 
precious  treasures  they  con 
tained  were  melting,  too,  and 
dripping  slowly  in  streams  of 
gold  and  crimson  over  the 
trees  and  bushes  of  the  forest. 

Still,  for  awhile,  the  frost 
fairies  did  not  notice  this 
strange  occurrence,  for  they 
frere  down  on  the  grass,  so 
lar  below  the  tree-tops  that 
the  wonderful  shower  of  treas 
ure  was  a  long  time  in  reach 
ing  them;  but  at  last  one  of 
them  said,  "Hark  !  I  believe 
it  is  raining;  I  certainly  hear 
the  falling  drops."  The  others 
laughed,  and  told  him  that  it 
seldom  rained  when  the  sun 
was  shining;  but  as  they  lis 
tened  they  plainly  heard  the 
tinkling  of  many  drops  falling 
through  the  forest,  and  slid 
ing  from  leaf  to  leaf  until  they 
reached  the  bramble-bushes 
beside  them,  when,  to  their 


various  trees  until  they  were 
sure  that  no  one  could  find 
them.  Then  they  began  to 
wander  merrily  about  search 
ing  for  nuts,  climbing  trees, 
peeping  curiously  into  the 
empty  birds'  nests,  and  play 
ing  hide  and  seek  from  behind 
the  trees.  Now,  these  naughty 
fairies  were  so  busy  and  so 
merry  over  their  frolic  that 
they  forgot  all  about  their 
errand  and  their  master's 
command  to  go  quickly,  but 
soon  they  found  to  their  dis 
may  why  they  had  been  bid 
den  to  hasten,  for  although 
they  had,  as  they  supposed, 
hidden  the  treasure  carefully, 
yet  the  bright  eyes  of  King 
Sun  had  spied  out  the  jars 
among  the  leaves,  and  as  he 
and  King  Frost  could  never 
agree  as  to  what  was  the  best 
way  of  benefiting  the  world, 
he  was  very  glad  of  a  good 
opportunity  of  playing  a  joke 
upon  his  rather  sharp  rival. 
King  Sun  laughed  softly  to 
himself  when  the  delicate  jars 
began  to  melt  and  break.  At 
length  every  jar  and  vase  was 
cracked  or  broken,  and  the 
precious  stones  they  contained 


LITERARY  STYLE 


great  dismay,  they  found  that 
the  rain-drops  were  melted 
rubies,  which  hardened  on  the 
leaves  and  turned  them  to 
bright  crimson  in  a  moment. 
Then  looking  more  closely  at 
the  trees  around,  they  saw 
that  the  tre'asure  was  all 
melting  away,  and  that  much 
of  it  was  already  spread  over 
the  leaves  of  the  oak  trees  and 
maples,  which  were  shining 
with  their  gorgeous  dress  of 
gold  and  bronze,  crimson  and 
emerald.  It  was  very  beau 
tiful;  but  the  idle  fairies  were 
too  much  frightened  at  the 
mischief  their  disobedience 
had  caused,  to  admire  the 
beauty  of  the  forest,  and  at 
once  tried  to  hide  themselves 
among  the  bushes,  lest  King 
Frost  should  come  and  punish 
them. 

Their  fears  were  well  found 
ed,  for  their  long  absence  had 
alarmed  the  king,  and  he 
had  started  out  to  look  for 
his  tardy  servants,  and  just 
as  they  were  all  hidden,  he 
came  along  slowly,  looking  on 
all  sides  for  the  fairies.  Of 
course,  he  soon  noticed  the 
brightness  of  the  leaves,  and 
discovered  the  cause,  too, 
when  he  caught  sight  of  the 
broken  jars  and  vases  from 
which  the  melted  treasure  was 
still  dropping.  And  when  he 
came  to  the  nut  trees,  and 
S*iw  the  shells  left  by  the  idle 


were  melting,  too,  and  running 
in  little  streams  over  the  trees 
and  bushes  of  the  forest. 

Still  the  idle  fairies  did  not 
notice  what  was  happening, 
for  they  were  down  on  the 
grass,  and  the  wonderful 
shower  of  treasure  was  a  long 
time  in  reaching  them;  but  at 
last  they  plainly  heard  the 
tinkling  of  many  drops  falling 
like  rain  through  the  forest, 
and  sliding  from  leaf  to  leal 
until  they  reached  the  little 
bushes  by  their  side,  when  to 
their  astonishment  they  dis 
covered  that  the  rain-drops 
were  melted  rubies  which 
hardened  on  the  leaves,  and 
turned  them  to  crimson  and 
gold  in  a  moment.  Then, 
looking  around  more  closely, 
they  saw  that  much  of  the 
treasure  was  already  melted, 
for  the  oaks  and  maples  were 
arrayed  in  gorgeous  dresses  of 
gold  and  crimson  and  emerald. 
It  was  very  beautiful,  but  the 
disobedient  fairies  were  too 
frightened  to  notice  the  beauty 
of  the  trees.  They  were  afraid 
that  King  Frost  would  come 
and  punish  them.  So  they  hid 
themselves  among  the  bushes 


4i2      A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 


fairies  and  all  the  traces  of 
their  frolic,  he  knew  exactly 
how  they  had  acted,  and  that 
they  had  disobeyed  him  by 
playing  and  loitering  on  their 
way  through  the  woods. 

King  Frost  frowned  and 
looked  very  angry  at  first, 
and  his  fairies  trembled  for 
fear  and  cowered  still  lower  in 
their  hiding-places;  but  just 
then  two  little  children  came 
dancing  through  the  wood, 
and  though  they  did  not  see 
King  Frost  or  the  fairies,  they 
saw  the  beautiful  colour  of 
the  leaves,  and  laughed  with 
delight,  and  began  picking 
great  bunches  to  take  to  their 
mother,  "The  leaves  are  as 
pretty  as  flowers,"  said  they; 
and  they  called  the  golden 
leaves  "buttercups, "  and  the 
red  ones  "roses,"  and  were 
very  happy  as  they  went  sing 
ing  through  the  wood. 

Their  pleasure  charmed 
away  King  Frost's  anger,  and 
he,  too,  began  to  admire  the 
painted  trees,  and  at  last  he 
said  to  himself,  "My  treasures 
are  not  wasted  if  they  make 
little  children  happy.  I  will 
not  be  offended  at  my  idle, 
thoughtless  fairies,  for  they 
have  taught  me  a  new  way  of 
doing  good."  When  the  frost 
fairies  heard  these  words  they 
crept,  one  by  one,  from  their 
corners,  and,  kneeling  down 
before  their  master,  confessed 


and  waited  silently  for  some 
thing  to  happen.  Their  fears 
were  well  founded,  for  their 
long  absence  had  alarmed  the 
King,  and  he  mounted  North 
Wind  and  went  out  in  search 
of  his  tardy  couriers.  Of 
course,  he  had  not  gone  far 
when  he  noticed  the  bright 
ness  of  the  leaves,  and  he 
quickly  guessed  the  cause 
when  he  saw  the  broken  jars 
from  which  the  treasure  was 
still  dropping.  At  first  King 
Frost  was  very  angry,  and 
the  fairies  trembled  and 
crouched  lower  in  their  hiding- 
places,  and  I  do  not  know 
what  might  have  happened  to 
them  if  just  then  a  party  of 
boys  and  girls  had  not  entered 
the  wood.  When  the  children 
saw  the  trees  all  aglow  with 
brilliant  colors  they  clapped 
their  hands  and  shouted  for 
joy,  and  immediately  began 
tc  pick  great  bunches  to  take 
home,,  "The  leaves  are  as 
lovely  as  the  flowers  !"  cried 
they,  in  their  delight.  Their 
pleasure  banished  the  anger 
from  King  Frost's  heart  and 
the  frown  from  his  brow,  a/id 
he,  too,  began  to  admire  t.b* 


LITERARY  STYLE 


ttoelr  fault,  and  asked  his  par 
don.  He  frowned  upon  them 
for  awhile,  and  scolded  them, 
too,  but  he  soon  relented,  and 
said  he  would  forgive  them 
this  time,  and  would  only 
punish  them  by  making  them 
carry  more  treasure  to  the 
forest,  and  hide  it  in  the  trees, 
until  all  the  leaves,  with 
ilr.  Sun's  help,  were  covered 
With  gold  and  ruby  coats. 

Then  the  fairies  thanked 
him  for  his  forgiveness,  and 
promised  to  work  very  hard 
to  please  him;  and  the  good- 
natured  king  took  them  all 
up  in  his  arms,  and  carried 
them  safely  home  to  his  palace. 
From  that  time,  I  suppose,  it 
Aas  been  part  of  Jack  Frost's 
work  to  paint  the  trees  with 
the  glowing  colours  we  see  in 
the  autumn;  and  if  they  are 
not  covered  with  gold  and 
precious  stones,  I  do  not  know 
how  he  makes  them  so  bright; 
do  you? 


painted  trees.  He  said  to 
himself,  "My  treasures  are 
not  wasted  if  they  make  lit 
tle  children  happy.  My  idle 
fairies  and  my  fiery  enemy 
have  taught  me  a  new  way  of 
doing  good." 

When  the  fairies  heard  this, 
they  were  greatly  relieved  and 
came  forth  from  their  hiding- 
places,  confessed  their  fault, 
and  asked  their  master's  for 
giveness. 

Ever  since  that  time  it  has 
been  King  Frost's  great  de 
light  to  paint  the  leaves  with 
the  glowing  colors  we  see  in 
the  autumn,  and  if  they  are 
not  covered  with  gold  and 
precious  stones  I  cannot  im 
agine  what  makes  them  so 
bright,  can  you? 


If  the  story  of  "The  Frost  Fairies"  was  read  to  Helen  in  the 
Gummer  of  1888,  she  could  not  have  understood  very  much  of 
it  at  that  time,  for  she  had  only  been  under  instruction  since 
March,  1887. 

Can  it  be  that  the  language  of  the  story  had  remained  dor 
mant  in  her  mind  until  my  description  of  the  beauty  of  the 
autumn  scenery  in  1891  brought  it  vividly  before  her  mental 
vision  ? 

I  have  made  careful  investigation  among  Helen's  friends  in 
Alabama  and  in  Boston  and  its  vicinity,  but  thus  far  have  been 
unable  to  ascertain  any  later  date  when  it  could  have  been  read 
to  bee. 


4i4          A  SUPPLEMENTARY  ACCOUNT 

Another  fact  is  of  great  significance  in  this  connection.  "Th« 
Rose  Fairies"  was  published  in  the  same  volume  with  "The 
Frost  Fairies,"  and,  therefore,  was  probably  read  to  Helen  at 
or  about  the  same  time. 

Now  Helen,  in  her  letter  of  February,  1890  (quoted  above), 
alludes  to  this  story  of  Miss  Canby's  as  dream  "which  I  had  a 
long  time  ago  when  I  -was  a  very  little  child."  Surely,  a  year 
and  a  half  would  appear  "a  long  time  ago"  to  a  little  girl  like 
Helen ;  we  therefore  have  reason  to  believe  that  the  stories  must 
have  been  read  to  her  at  least  as  early  as  the  summer  of  1888. 

HELEN  KELLER'S  OWN  STATEMENT 
(The  following  entry  made  by  Helen  in  her  diary  speaks  for  itself.) 

1892.  January  30.  This  morning  I  took  a  bath,  and  when 
teacher  came  upstairs  to  comb  my  hair  she  told  me  some  very 
sad  news  which  made  me  unhappy  all  day.  Some  one  wrote  to 
Mr.  Anagnos  that  the  story  which  I  sent  him  as  a  birthday 
gift,  and  which  I  wrote  myself,  was  not  my  story  at  all,  but  that 
a  lady  had  written  it  a  long  time  ago.  The  person  said  her  story 
was  called  "Frost  Fairies."  I  am  sure  I  never  heard  it.  It 
made  us  feel  so  bad  to  think  that  people  thought  we  had  been 
untrue  and  wicked.  My  heart  was  full  of  tears,  for  I  love  the 
beautiful  truth  with  my  whole  heart  and  mind. 

It  troubles  me  greatly  now.  I  do  not  know  what  I  shall  do. 
I  never  thought  that  people  could  make  such  mistakes.  I  am 
perfectly  sure  I  wrote  the  story  myself.  Mr.  Anagnos  is  much 
troubled.  It  grieves  me  to  think  that  I  have  been  the  cause  of 
his  unhappiness,  but  of  course  I  did  not  mean  to  do  it. 

I  thought  about  my  story  in  the  autumn,  because  teachef 
told  me  about  the  autumn  leaves  while  we  walked  in  the  woods 
at  Fern  Quarry.  I  thought  fairies  must  have  painted  them 
because  they  are  so  wonderful,  and  I  thought,  too,  that  King 
Frost  must  have  jars  and  vases  containing  precious  treasures, 
because  I  knew  that  other  kings  long  ago  had,  and  because 
teacher  told  me  that  the  leaves  were  painted  ruby,  emerald, 
gold,  crimson,  and  brown;  so  that  I  thought  the  paint  must  be 
melted  stones.  I  knew  tnat  they  must  make  children  happy 
because  they  are  so  lovely,  and  it  made  me  very  happy  to  think 
that  the  leaves  were  so  beautiful  and  that  the  trees  glowed 
•o,  although  I  could  not  see  them. 


LITERARY   STYLE  415 

I  thought  everybody  had  the  same  thought  about  the  leaves, 
but  I  do  not  know  now.  I  thought  very  much  about  the  sad 
news  when  teacher  went  to  the  doctor's;  she  was  not  here  at 
dinner  and  I  missed  her. 

I  do  not  feel  that  I  can  add  anything  more  that  will  be  of 
interest.  My  own  heart  is  too  "full  of  tears"  when  I  remember 
how  my  dear  little  pupil  suffered  when  she  knew  "that  people 
thought  we  had  been  untrue  and  wicked,"  for  I  know  that  she 
does  indeed  "love  the  beautiful  truth  with  her  whole  heart 
and  mind." 

Yours  truly, 

ANNIE  M.   SULLIVAN. 


So  much  appears  in  the  Volta  Bureau  Souvenir.  The  following 
letter  from  Mr.  Anagnos  is  reprinted  from  the  American  Annals 
oj  the  Deaf,  April,  1892: 

PERKINS   INSTITUTION   AND  MASSACHUSETTS   SCHOOL   FOR 
THE    BLIND 

So.  BOSTON,  March  n,  1892. 
To  THE  EDITOR  OF  THE  Annals. 

SIR:  In  compliance  with  your  wishes  I  make  the  following 
statement  concerning  Helen  Keller's  story  of  "King  Frost." 
It  was  sent  to  me  as  a  birthday  gift  on  November  7th,  from 
Tuscumbia,  Alabama,  Knowing  as  well  as  I  do  Helen's  extra 
ordinary  abilities  I  did  not  hesitate  to  accept  it  as  her  own 
work;  nor  do  I  doubt  to-day  that  she  is  fully  capable  of  writing 
such  a  composition,  Soon  after  its  appearance  in  print  I 
was  pained  to  learn,  through  the  Goodson  Gazette,  that  a  portion 
of  the  story  (eight  or  nine  passages)  is  either  a  reproduction  or 
adaptation  of  Miss  Margaret  Canby's  "Frost  Fairies."  I 
immediately  instituted  an  inquiry  to  ascertain  the  facts  in  the 
case.  None  of  our  teachers  or  officers  who  are  accustomed  to 
converse  with  Helen  ever  knew  or  heard  about  Miss  Canby's 
book,  nor  did  the  child's  parents  and  relatives  at  home  have 
any  knowledge  of  it.  Her  father,  Captain  Keller,  wrote  to  me 
as  follows  011  the  subject: 

"I  hasten  to  assure  you  that  Helen  could  not  have  received  any 
idea  of  the  story  from  any  of  her  relations  or  friends  here,  none 


4i6      A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 

of  whom  can  communicate  with  her  readily  enough  to  imprest 
her  with  the  details  of  a  story  of  that  character." 

At  my  request,  one  of  the  teachers  in  the  girls'  department 
examined  Helen  in  regard  to  the  construction  of  the  story. 
Her  testimony  is  as  follows: 

"I  first  tried  to  ascertain  what  had  suggested  to  Helen's  mind 
the  particular  fancies  which  made  her  story  seem  like  a  repro 
duction  of  one  written  by  Miss  Margaret  Cariby.  Helen  told 
me  that  for  a  long  time  she  had  thought  of  Jack  Frost  as  a  king, 
because  of  the  many  treasures  which  he  possessed.  Such 
rich  treasures  must  be  kept  in  a  safe  place,  and  so  she  had 
imagined  them  stored  in  jars  and  vases  in  one  part  of  the 
royal  palace.  She  said  that  one  autumn  day  her  teacher  told  her 
as  they  were  walking  together  in  the  woods,  about  the  many 
beautiful  colours  of  the  leaves,  and  she  had  thought  that  such 
beauty  must  make  people  very  happy,  and  very  grateful  to 
King  Frost.  I  asked  Helen  what  stories  she  had  read  about 
/ack  Frost.  In  answer  to  my  question  she  recited  a  part  of 
the  poem  called  'Freaks  of  the  Frost,'  and  she  referred  to  a 
little  piece  about  winter,  in  one  6f  the  school  readers.  She  could 
not  remember  that  any  one  had  ever  read  to  her  any  stories 
about  King  Frost,  but  said  she  had  talked  with  her  teacher 
^,bout  Jack  Frost  and  the  wonderful  things  he  did." 

The  only  person  that  we  supposed  might  possibly  have  read 
the  story  to  Helen  was  her  friend,  Mrs.  Hopkins,  whom  she  was 
visiting  at  the  time  in  Brewster.  I  asked  Miss  Sullivan  to  go 
at  once  to  see  Mrs.  Hopkins  and  ascertain  the  facts  iw  the  matter. 
The  result  of  her  investigation  is  embodied  in  the  printed  notr 
herewith  enclosed.* 

I  have  scarcely  any  doubt  that  Miss  Canby's  little  book  was 
read  to  Helen,  by  Mrs.  Hopkins,  in  the  summer  of  1888.  But 
the  child  has  no  recollection  whatever  of  this  fact.  On  Miss 
Sullivan's  return  to  Brewster,  she  read  to  Helen  the  story  of 
"Little  Lord  Fauntleroy,"  which  she  had  purchased  in  Boston 
for  the  purpose.  The  child  was  at  once  fascinated  and  absorbed 
with  the  charming  story,  which  evidently  made  a  deeper  impres 
sion  upon  her  mind  than  any  previously  read  to  her,  as  was 
shown  in  the  frequent  reference  to  it,  both  in  her  conversation 
and  letters,  for  many  months  afterward.  Her  intense  interest 

*This  note  is  a  statement  of  the'bare  facts  and  an  apology,  which  Mr.  Anajnos  in 
serted  in  his  report  of  the  Perkins  Institute. 


LITERARY  STYLE  417 

* 

in  Fauntleroy  must  have  buried  all  remembrance  of  "Frost 
Fairies,"  and  when,  more  than  three  years  later,  she  had  acquired 
a  fuller  knowledge  and  use  of  language,  and  was  told  of  Jack 
Frost  and  his  work,  the  seed  so  long  buried  sprang  up  into  new 
thoughts  and  fancies.  This  may  explain  the  reason  why  Helen 
claims  persistently  that  "The  Frost  King"  is  her  own  story. 
She  seems  to  have  some  idea  of  the  difference  between  original 
composition  and  reproduction.  She  did  not  know  the  meaning 
of  the  word  "plagiarism"  until  quite  recently,  when  it  was 
explained  to  her.  She  is  absolutely  truthful.  Veracity  is  the 
strongest  element  of  her  character.  She  was  very  much  sur 
prised  and  grieved  when  she  was  told  that  her  composition 
was  an  adaptation  of  Miss  Canby's  story  of  "Frost  Fairies." 
She  could  not  keep  back  her  tears,  and  the  chief  cause  of  her 
pain  seemed  to  be  the  fear  lest  people  should  doubt  her  truth 
fulness.  She  said,  with  great  intensity  of  feeling,  "I  love  the 
beautiful  truth."  A  most  rigid  examination  of  the  child  of 
about  two  hours'  duration,  at  which  eight  persons  were  present 
and  asked  all  sorts  of  questions  with  perfect  freedom,  failed 
to  elicit  in  the  least  any  testimony  convicting  either  her  teacher 
or  any  one  else  of  the  intention  or  attempt  to  practice  deception. 
In  view  of  these  facts  I  cannot  but  think  that  Helen,  while 
writing  "The  Frost  King,"  was  entirely  unconscious  of  ever 
having  had  the  story  of  "Frost  Fairies"  read  to  her,  and  that  her 
memory  has  been  accompanied  by  such  a  loss  of  associations 
that  she  herself  honestly  believed  her  composition  to  be 
original.  This  theory  is  shared  by  many  persons  who  are 
perfectly  well  acquainted  with  the  child  and  who  are  able  to 
rise  above  the  clouds  of  a  narrow  prejudice. 

Very  sincerely  yours, 

M.  ANAGNOS. 
Director  of  the  Perkins  Institution  and 

Massachusetts  School  for  the  Blind. 

The  episode  had  a  deadening  effect  on  Helen  Keller  and  on 
Miss  Sullivan,  who  feared  that  she  had  allowed  the  habit  of 
imitation,  which  has  in  truth  made  Miss  Keller  a  writer,  to  go 
too  far.  Even  to-day,  when  Miss  Keller  strikes  off  a  fine  phrase, 
Miss  Sullivan  says  in  humorous  despair,  "I  wonder  where  she 
got  that?"  But  she  knows  now,  since  she  has  studied  with  her 
pupil  in  college  the  problems  of  composition,  under  the  wise 


4i  8         A  SUPPLEMENTARY  ACCOUNT 

advice  of  Mr.  Charles  T.  Copeland,  that  the  style  of  every 
writer  and  indeed,  of  every  human  being,  illiterate  or  culti 
vated,  is  a  composite  reminiscence  of  all  that  he  has  read  and 
heard.  Of  the  sources  of  his  vocabulary  he  is,  for  the  most 
part,  as  unaware  as  he  is  of  the  moment  when  he  ate  the  food 
which  makes  a  bit  of  his  thumbnail.  With  most  of  us  the 
contributions  from  different  sources  are  blended,  crossed  and 
confused.  A  child  with  but  few  sources  may  keep  distinct 
what  he  draws  from  each.  In  this  case  Helen  Keller  held  almost 
intact  in  her  mind,  unmixed  with  other  ideas,  the  words  of  a 
story  which  at  the  time  it  was  read  to  her  she  did  not  fully 
understand.  The  importance  of  this  cannot  be  overestimated. 
It  shows  how  the  child-mind  gathers  into  itself  words  it  has 
heard,  and  how  they  lurk  there  ready  to  come  out  when  the  key 
that  releases  the  spring  is  touched.  The  reason  that  we  do  not 
observe  this  process  in  ordinary  children  is,  because  we  seldom 
observe  them  at  all,  and  because  they  are  fed  from  so  many 
sources  that  the  memories  are  confused  and  mutually  destructive. 
The  story  of  "The  Frost  King"  did  not,  however,  come  from 
Helen  Keller's  mind  intact,  but  had  taken  to  itself  the  mould 
of  the  child's  temperament  and  had  drawn  on  a  vocabulary 
that  to  some  extent  had  been  supplied  in  other  ways.  The 
style  of  her  version  is  in  some  respects  even  better  than  the 
style  of  Miss  Canby's  story.  It  has  the  imaginative  credulity 
of  a  primitive  folk-tale;  whereas  Miss  Canby's  story  is  evi 
dently  told  for  children  by  an  older  person,  who  adopts  the 
manner  of  a  fairy  tale  and  cannot  conceal  the  mature  mood 
which  allows  such  didactic  phrases  as  "Jack  Frost  as  he  is  some 
times  called,"  "Noon,  at  which  time  Mr.  Sun  is  strongest." 
Most  people  will  feel  the  superior  imaginative  quality  of  Helen 
Keller's  opening  paragraph.  Surely  the  writer  must  become  as 
a  little  child  to  see  things  like  that.  "Twelve  soldierly  looking 
white  bears"  is  a  stroke  of  genius,  and  there  is  beauty  of  rhythm 
throughout  the  child's  narrative.  It  is  original  in  the  same 
way  that  a  poet's  version  of  an  old  story  is  original. 

This  little  story  calls  into  life  all  the  questions  of  language 
and  the  philosophy  of  style.  Some  conclusions  may  be  briefly 
suggested. 

All  use  of  language  is  imitative,  and  one's  style  is  made  up  of 
all  other  styles  that  one  has  met. 

way  to  write  good  English  is  to  read  it  and  hear  Vt.     The*" 


LITERARY  STYLE  419 

it  is  that  any  child  may  be  taught  to  use  correct  English  by  not 
being  allowed  to  read  or  hear  any  other  kind.  In  a  child,  the 
selection  of  the  better  from  the  worse  is  not  conscious ;  he  is  the 
servant  of  his  word  experience. 

The  ordinary  man  will  never  be  rid  of  the  fallacy  that  words 
obey  thought,  that  one  thinks  first  and  phrases  afterward. 
There  must  first,  it  is  true,  be  the  intention,  the  desire  to  utter 
something,  but  the  idea  does  not  often  become  specific,  does 
not  take  shape  until  it  is  phrased;  certainly  an  idea  is  a  different 
thing  by  virtue  of  being  phrased.  Words  often  make  the 
thought,  and  the  master  of  words  will  say  things  greater  than 
are  in  him.  A  remarkable  example  is  a  paragraph  from  Miss 
Keller's  sketch  in  the  Youth's  Companion.  Writing  of  the 
moment  when  she  learned  that  everything  has  a  name,  she 
says:  "We  met  the  nurse  carrying  my  little  cousin;  and  teacher 
spelled  'baby.'  And  for  the  -first  time  I  was  impressed  with  the 
smallness  and  helplessness  of  a  little  baby,  and  mingled  with 
the  thought  there  was  another  one  of  myself,  and  I  was  glad 
I  was  myself,  and  not  a  baby."  It  was  a  word  that  created 
these  thoughts  in  her  mind.  So  the  master  of  words  is  master 
of  thoughts  which  the  words  create,  and  says  things  greater 
than  he  could  otherwise  know.  Helen  Keller  writing  "The 
Frost  King"  was  building  better  than  she  knew  and  saying 
friore  than  she  meant. 

Whoever  makes  a  sentence  of  words  utters  not  his  wisdom, 
but  the  wisdom  of  the  race  whose  life  is  in  the  words,  though 
they  have  never  been  so  grouped  before.  The  man  who  can- 
write  stories  thinks  of  stories  to  write.  The  medium  calls  forth 
the  thing  it  conveys,  and  the  greater  the  medium  the  deeper  the 
thoughts. 

The  educated  man  is  the  man  whose  expression  is  educated. 
The  substance  of  thought  is  language,  and  language  is  the 
one  thing  to  teach  the  deaf  child  and  every  other  child.  Let 
him  get  language  and  he  gets  the  very  stuff  that  language  is 
made  of,  the  thought  and  the  experience  of  his  race.  The  lan 
guage  must  be  one  used  by  a  nation,  not  an  artificial  thing. 
Volapiik  is  a  paradox,  unless  one  has  French  or  English  or 
German  or  some  other  language  that  has  grown  up  in  a  nation. 
The  deaf  child  who  has  only  the  sign  language  of  De  l'Epe"e  is 
an  intellectual  Philip  Nolan,  an  alien  from  all  races,  and  his 
thoughts  are  not  the  thoughts  of  an  Englishman,  or  a- 


420         A  SUPPLEMENTARY  ACCOUNT 

Frenchman,  or  a  Spaniard.     The  Lord's  prayer  in  signs  is  not 
the  Lord's  prayer  in  English. 

In  his  essay  on  style  De  Quincey  says  that  the  best  English 
is  to  be  found  in  the  letters  of  the  cultivated  gentlewoman, 
because  she  has  read  only  a  few  good  books  and  has  not  been 
corrupted  by  the  style  of  newspapers  and  the  jargon  of  street, 
market-place,  and  assembly  hall. 

Precisely  these  outward  circumstances  account  for  Helen 
Keller's  use  of  English.  In  the  early  years  of  her  education 
she  had  only  good  things  to  read;  some  were,  indeed,  trivial  and 
not  excellent  in  style,  but  not  one  was  positively  bad  in  manner 
or  substance.  This  happy  condition  has  obtained  throughout 
her  life.  She  has  been  nurtured  on  imaginative  literature, 
and  she  has  gathered  from  it  into  her  vigorous  and  tenacious 
memory  the  style  of  great  writers.  "A  new  word  opens  its 
heart  to  me,"  she  writes  in  a  letter;  and  when  she  uses  the  word 
its  heart  is  still  open.  When  she  was  twelve  years  old,  she  was 
asked  what  book  she  would  take  on  a  long  railroad  journey. 
"Paradise  Lost,"  she  answered,  and  she  read  it  on  the 
train. 

Until  the  last  year  or  two  she  has  not  been  master  of  her 
style;  rather  has  her  style  been  master  of  her.  It  is  only  since 
she  has  made  composition  a  more  conscious  study  that  she 
has  ceased  to  be  the  victim  of  the  phrase;  the  lucky  victim, 
fortunately,  of  the  good  phrase. 

When  in  1892,  she  was  encouraged  to  write  a  sketch  of  her 
life  for  the  Youth's  Companion,  in  the  hope  that  it  would 
reassure  her  and  help  her  to  recover  from  the  effect  of  "The  Frost 
King,"  she  produced  a  piece  of  composition  which  is  much 
more  remarkable  and  in  itself  more  entertaining  at  some  points 
than  the  corresponding  part  of  her  story  in  this  book.  When 
she  came  to  retell  the  story  in  a  fuller  form,  the  echo  was  still 
in  her  mind  of  the  phrases  she  had  written  nine  years  before. 
Yet  she  had  not  seen  her  sketch  in  the  Youth's  Companion  since 
she  wrote  it,  except  two  passages  which  Miss  Sullivan  read  to 
her  to  remind  her  of  things  she  should  say  in  this  autobiography, 
and  to  show  her,  when  her  phrasing  troubled  her,  how  much 
better  she  did  as  a  little  girl. 

From  the  early  sketch  I  take  a  few  passages  which  seem  to 
me,  without  making  very  much  allowance  for  difference  in  time, 
almost  as  good  as  anything  she  has  written  since: 


LITERARY  STYLE  421 

I  discovered  the  true  way  to  walk  when  I  was  a  year  old,  and 
during  the  radiant  summer  days  that  followed  I  was  never  still 
a  minute. 

Then  when  my  father  came  in  the  evening,  I  would  run  to 
the  gate  to  meet  him,  and  he  would  take  me  up  in  his  strong  arms 
and  put  back  the  tangled  curls  from  my  face  and  kiss  me  many 
times,  saying,  "What  has  my  Little  Woman  been  doing 
to-day?" 

But  the  brightest  summer  has  winter  behind  it.  In  the 
cold,  dreary  month  of  February,  when  I  was  nineteen  months 
old,  I  had  a  serious  illness.  I  still  have  confused  memories 
of  that  illness.  My  mother  sat  beside  my  little  bed  and  tried 
to  soothe  my  feverish  moans  while  in  her  troubled  heart  she 
prayed,  "Father  in  Heaven,  spare  my  baby's  life!"  But 
the  fever  grew  and  flamed  in  my  eyes,  and  for  several  days  my 
kind  physician  thought  I  would  die. 

But  early  one  morning  the  fever  left  me  as  mysteriously  and 
unexpectedly  as  it  had  come,  and  I  fell  into  a  quiet  sleep.  Then 
my  parents  knew  I  would  live,  and  they  were  very  happy. 
They  did  not  know  for  some  time  after  my  recovery  that  the 
cruel  fever  had  taken  my  sight  and  hearing;  taken  all  the  light 
and  music  and  gladness  out  of  my  little  life. 

But  I  was  too  young  to  realize  what  had  happened.  When 
I  awoke  and  found  that  all  was  dark  and  still,  I  suppose  I  thought 
it  was  night,  and  I  must  have  wondered  why  day  was  so  long 
coming.  Gradually,  however,  I  got  used  to  the  silence  and 
darkness  that  surrounded  me,  and  forgot  that  it  had  ever 
been  day. 

I  forgot  everything  that  had  been  except  my  mother's  tender 
love.  Soon  even  my  childish  voice  was  stilled,  because  I  had 
ceased  to  hear  any  sound. 

But  all  was  not  lost!  After  all,  sight  and  hearing  are  but 
two  of  the  beautiful  blessings  which  God  had  given  me.  The 
most  precious,  the  most  wonderful  of  His  gifts  was  still  mine. 
My  mind  remained  clear  and  active,  "though  fled  fore'er  the 
light." 

As  soon  as  my  strength  returned,  I  began  to  take  an  interest 
in  what  the  people  around  me  were  doing.  I  would  cling 
to  my  mother's  dress  as  she  went  about  her  household  duties, 
and  my  little  hands  felt  every  object  and  observed  every  motion, 
and  in  this  way  I  learned  a  great  many  things. 


422         A  SUPPLEMENTARY  ACCOUNT 

When  I  was  a  little  older  I  felt  the  need  of  some  means  of 
communication  with  those  around  me,  and  I  began  to  make 
simple  signs  which  my  parents  and  friends  readily  understood; 
but  it  often  happened  that  I  was  unable  to  express  my  thoughts 
intelligibly,  and  at  such  times  I  would  give  way  to  my  angry 
feelings  utterly.  .  .  . 

Teacher  had  been  with  me  nearly  two  weeks,  and  I  had 
learned  eighteen  or  twenty  words,  before  that  thought  flashed 
into  my  mind,  as  the  sun  breaks  upon  the  sleeping  world;  and 
in  that  moment  of  illumination  the  secret  of  language  was 
revealed  to  me,  and  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  beautiful  country 
I  was  about  to  explore. 

Teacher  had  been  trying  all  the  morning  to  make  me  under 
stand  that  the  mug  and  the  milk  in  the  mug  had  different 
names;  but  I  was  very  dull,  and  kept  spelling  milk  for  mug,  and 
mug  for  milk  until  teacher  must  have  lost  all  hope  of  making 
me  see  my  mistake.  At  last  she  got  up,  gave  me  the  mug,  and 
led  me  out  of  the  door  to  the  pump-house.  Some  one  was 
pumping  water,  and  as  the  cool  fresh  stream  burst  forth,  teacher 
made  me  put  my  mug  under  the  spout  and  spelled  "w-a-t-e-r," 
Water! 

That  word  startled  my  soul,  and  it  awoke,  full  of  the  spirit 
of  the  morning,  full  of  joyous,  exultant  song.  Until  that  day 
my  mind  had  been  like  a  darkened  chamber,  waiting  for  words 
to  enter  and  light  the  lamp,  which  is  thought.  .  .  . 

I  learned  a  great  many  words  that  day.  I  do  not  remem 
ber  what  they  all  were;  but  I  do  know  that  mother,  father,  sister 
and  teacher  were  among  them.  It  would  have  been  difficult 
to  find  a  happier  little  child  than  I  was  that  night  as  I  lay  in 
my  crib  and  thought  over  the  joy  the  day  had  brought  me,  and 
for  the  first  time  longed  for  a  new  day  to  come. 

The  next  morning  I  awoke  with  joy  in  my  heart.  Every 
thing  I  touched  seemed  to  quiver  with  life.  It  was  because  1 
saw  everything  with  the  new,  strange,  beautiful  sight  which 
had  been  given  me.  I  was  never  angry  after  that  because  1 
understood  what  my  friends  said  to  me,  and  I  was  very  busy 
learning  many  wonderful  things.  I  was  never  still  during  the 
first  glad  days  of  my  freedom.  I  was  continually  spelling 
and  acting  out  the  words  as  I  spelled  them.  I  would  run,  skip, 
jump  and  swing,  no  matter  where  I  happened  to  be.  Every 
thing  was  budding  and  blossoming.  The  honeysuckle  hung  in 


LITERARY  STYLE  423 

garianris,  deliciously  fragrant,  and  the  ro«jes  had  neve* 
been  so  beautiful  before.  Teacher  and  I  lived  out-of-doors 
from  morning  until  night,  and  I  rejoiced  greatly  in  the  forgotten 
Sight  and  sunshine  found  again.  .  .  . 

The  morning  after  our  arrival  I  awoke  bright  and  early, 
&  beautiful  summer  day  had  dawned,  the  day  on  which  I  was 
to  make  the  acquaintance  of  a  somber  and  mysterious  friend, 
I  got  up,  and  dressed  quickly  and  ran  downstairs.  I  met 
Teacher  in  the  hall,  and  begged  to  be  taken  to  the  sea  at  once. 
"Not  yet,"  she  responded,  laughing.  "We  must  have  breakfast 
first,"  As  soon  as  breakfast  wus  over  we  hurried  off  to  the 
shore.  Our  pathway  led  through  low,  sandy  hills,  and  as  we 
hastened  on,  I  often  caught  my  feet  in  the  long,  coarse  grassr, 
and  tumbled,  laughing,  in  the  warm,  shining  sand.  The  beauti 
ful,  warm  air  was  peculiarly  fragrant,  and  I  noticed  it  got  coclet 
and  fresher  as  we  went  on. 

Suddenly  we  stopped,  and  I  knew,  without  being  told,  ths 
Sea  was  at  my  feet.  I  knew,  too,  it  was  immense !  awful !  and 
for  a  moment  some  of  the  sunshine  seemed  to  have  gone  out 
of  the  day.  But  I  do  not  think  I  was  afraid;  for  later,  when 
I  had  put  on  my  bathing-suit,  and  the  little  waves  ran  up  on  the 
beach  and  kissed  my  feet,  I  shouted  for  joy,  and  plunged  fear 
lessly  into  the  surf.  But,  unfortunately,  I  struck  my  foot  on  & 
rock  and  fell  forward  into  the  cold  water. 

Then  a  strange,  fearful  sense  of  danger  terrified  me.  The 
salt  water  rilled  my  eyes,  and  took  away  my  breath,  and  a 
great  wave  threw  me  up  on  the  beach  as  easily  as  if  I  nad  been 
a  little  pebble.  For  several  days  after  that  I  was  very  timid, 
and  could  hardly  be  persuaded  to  go  in  the  water  at  all;  but  by 
degrees  my  courage  returned,  and  almost  before  the  summer 
was  over,  I  thought  it  the  greatest  fun  to  be  tossed  about  by  the 
sea-waves.  .  .  . 


I  do  not  know  whether  the  difference  or  the  similarity  in 
phrasing  between  the  child's  version  and  the  woman's  is  the  more 
remarkable.  The  early  story  is  simpler  and  shows  less  deliberate 
artifice,  though  even  then  Miss  Keller  was  prematurely  conscious 
of  style;  but  the  art  of  the  later  narrative,  as  in  the  passage 


424         A  SUPPLEMENTARY  ACCOUNT 

about  the  sea,  or  the  passage  on  the  medallion  of  Homer,  is  surely 
a  fulfilment  of  the  promise  of  the  early  story.  It  was  in  these 
early  days  that  Dr.  Holmes  wrote  to  her:  "I  am  delighted 
with  the  style  of  your  letters.  There  is  no  affectation  about  them, 
and  as  they  come  straight  from  your  heart,  so  they  go  straight 
to  mine/' 

In  the  years  when  she  was  growing  out  of  childhood,  her  style 
lost  its  early  simplicity  and  became  stiff  and,  as  she  says,  "peri 
wigged."  In  these  years  the  fear  came  many  times  to  Miss 
Sullivan  lest  the  success  of  the  child  was  to  cease  with  child 
hood.  At  times  Miss  Keller  seemed  to  lack  flexibility;  her 
thoughts  ran  in  set  phrases  which  she  seemed  to  have  no  power 
to  revise  or  turn  over  in  new  ways. 

Then  came  the  work  in  college — original  theme  writing  with 
new  ideals  of  composition  or  at  least  new  methods  of  suggesting 
those  ideals.  Miss  Keller  began  to  get  the  better  of  her  old 
friendly  taskmaster,  the  phrase.  This  book,  her  first  mature 
experiment  in  writing,  settles  the  question  of  her  ability  to  write. 

The  style  of  the  Bible  is  everywhere  in  Miss  Keller's  work,  just 
as  it  is  in  the  style  of  most  great  English  writers.  Stevenson, 
whom  Miss  Sullivan  likes  and  used  to  read  to  her  pupil,  is  another 
marked  influence.  In  her  autobiography  are  many  quotations, 
chiefly  from  the  Bible  and  Stevenson,  distinct  from  the  context 
or  interwoven  with  it,  the  whole  a  fabric  quite  of  her  own  design. 
Her  vocabulary  has  all  the  phrases  that  other  people  use,  and 
the  explanation  of  it,  and  the  reasonableness  of  it  ought  to  bt 
evident  by  this  time.  There  is  no  reason  why  she  should  strike 
from  her  vocabulary  all  words  of  sound  and  vision.  Writing 
for  other  people,  she  should  in  many  cases  be  true  to  outet 
fact  rather  than  to  her  own  experience.  So  long  as  she  uses 
words  correctly,  she  should  be  granted  the  privilege  of  using 
them  freely,  and  not  be  expected  to  confine  herself  to  a  vocabu 
lary  true  to  her  lack  of  sight  and  hearing.  In  her  style,  as  in 
what  she  writes  about,  we  must  concede  to  the  artist  what 
we  deny  to  the  autobiographer.  It  should  be  explained,  too, 
that  look  and  see  are  used  by  the  blind,  and  hear  by  the 
deaf,  for  perceive;  they  are  simple  and  more  convenient 
words.  Only  a  literal  person  could  think  of  holding  the 
blind  to  perception  or  apperception,  when  seeing  and  looking 
are  so  much  easier,  and  have,  moreover,  in  the  speech  of  all 
men  the  meaning  of  intellectual  recognition  as  well  as  recogni- 


LITERARY  STYLE  425 

tion  through  the  sense  of  sight.  When  Miss  Keller  examines 
a  statue,  she  says  in  her  natural  idiom,  as  her  fingers  run  over 
the  marble,  "  It  looks  like  a  head  of  Flora.'* 

It  is  true,  on  the  other  hand,  that  in  her  descriptions,  she  is 
best  from  the  point  of  view  of  art  when  she  is  faithful  to  her 
own  sensations;  and  this  is  precisely  true  of  all  artists. 

Her  recent  training  has  taught  her  to  drop  a  good  deal  of 
her  conventionality  and  to  write  about  experiences  in  her  life 
which  are  peculiar  to  her  and  which,  like  the  storm  in  the  wild 
cherry  tree,  mean  most  and  call  for  the  truest  phrasing.  She 
has  learned  ^ —  y.d  more  to  give  up  the  style  she  borrowed 
from  bcoLs  c^u  tried  to  use,  because  she  wanted  to  write  like 
other  people;  she  has  learned  that  she  is  at  her  best  when  she 
*' feels"  the  lilies  sway;  lets  the  roses  press  into  her  hands  and 
speaks  of  the  heat  which  to  her  means  light. 

Miss  Keller's  autobiography  contains  almost  everything 
that  she  ever  intended  to  publish.  It  seems  worth  while,  how 
ever,  to  quote  from  some  of  her  chance  bits  of  writing,  which 
are  neither  so  informal  as  her  letters  nor  so  carefully  composed 
as  her  story  of  her  life.  These  extracts  are  from  her  exercises 
in  her  course  in  composition,  where  she  showed  herself  at  the 
beginning  of  her  college  life  quite  without  rival  among  her 
classmates.  Mr.  Charles  T.  Copeland,  who  has  been  for  many 
years  instructor  in  English  and  Lecturer  on  English  Literature 
at  Harvard  and  Radcliffe,  said  to  me:  "In  some  of  her 
work  she  has  shown  that  she  can  write  better  than  any  pupil 
I  ever  had,  man  or  woman.  She  has  an  excellent  'ear'  for  the 
flow  of  sentences."  The  extracts  follow: 

A  few  verses  of  Omar  Khayyam's  poetry  have  just  been 
read  to  me,  and  I  feel  as  if  I  had  spent  the  last  half-hour  in  a 
magnificent  sepulcher.  Yes,  it  is  a  tomb  in  which  hope,  joy 
and  the  power  of  acting  nobly  lie  buried.  Every  beautiful 
description,  every  deep  thought  glides  insensibly  into  the  same 
mournful  chant  of  the  brevity  of  life,  of  the  slow  decay  and 
dissolution  of  all  earthy  things.  The  poet's  bright,  fond  mem 
ories  of  love,  youth  and  beauty  are  but  the  funeral  torches 
shedding  their  light  on  this  tomb,  or  to  modify  the  image  a 
little,  they  are  the  flowers  that  bloom  on  it,  watered  with  tears 
and  fed  by  a  bleeding  heart.  Beside  the  tomb  sits  a  weary  soul, 


426         A  SUPPLEMENTARY  ACCOUNT 

rejoicing  neither  in  the  joys  of  the  past  nor  in  the  possibilities  of 
the  future,  but  seeking  consolation  in  forgetfulness.  In  vain 
the  inspiring  sea  shouts  to  this  languid  soul,  in  vain  the  heavens 
strive  with  its  weakness;  it  still  persists  in  regretting  and  seeks 
a  refuge  in  oblivion  from  the  pangs  of  present  woe.  At  times 
it  catches  some  faint  echo  from  the  living,  joyous,  real  world,  a 
gleam  of  the  perfection  that  is  to  be;  and,  thrilled  out  of  its 
despondency,  feels  capable  of  working  out  a  grand  ideal  even 
"in  the  poor,  miserable,  hampered  actual."  wherein  it  is  placed; 
but  in  a  moment  the  inspiration,  the  vision  is  gone,  and  this 
great,  much-suffering  soul  is  again  enveloped  in  the  darkness 
of  uncertainty  and  despair. 

It  is  wonderful  how  much  time  good  people  spend  fighting 
the  devil.  If  they  would  only  expend  the  same  amount  of 
energy  loving  their  fellow  men,  the  devil  would  die  in  his  own 
tracks  of  ennui. 

I  often  think  that  beautiful  ideas  embarrass  most  people 
as  much  as  the  company  of  great  men.  They  are  regarded 
generally  as  far  more  appropriate  in  books  and  in  public  dis 
courses  than  in  the  parlor  or  at  the  table.  Of  course  I  do  not 
refer  to  beautiful  sentiments,  but  to  the  higher  truths  relating 
to  everyday  life.  Few  people  that  I  know  seem  ever  to  pause 
in  their  daily  intercourse  to  wonder  at  the  beautiful  bits  of 
truth  they  have  gathered  during  their  years  of  study.  Often 
when  I  speak  enthusiastically  of  something  in  history  or  in 
poetry,  I  receive  no  response,  and  I  feel  that  I  must  change  the 
subject  and  return  to  the  commonest  topics,  such  as  the  weather, 
dressmaking,  sports,  sickness,  "blues"  and  "worries."  To  be 
sure,  I  take  the  keenest  interest  in  everything  that  concerns 
those  who  surround  me;  it  is  this  very  interest  which  makes 
it  so  difficult  for  me  to  carry  on  a  conversation  with  some  people 
who  will  not  talk  or  say  what  they  think;  but  I  should  not  be  sorry 
to  find  more  friends  ready  to  talk  with  me  now  and  then  about 
the  wonderful  things  I  read.  We  need  not  be  like  "Les  Femmes 
Savantes";  but  we  ought  to  have  something  to  say  about  what 
we  learn  as  well  as  about  what  we  must  do,  and  what  our  pro 
fessors  say  or  how  they  mark  our  themes. 

To-day  I  took  luncheon  with  the  Freshman  Class  of  Radcliffe 


LITERARY   STYLE 


This  was  my  first  real  experience  in  college  life,  and  a  delightful 
experience  it  was  !  For  the  first  time  since  my  entrance  into 
Radcliffe  I  had  the  opportunity  to  make  friends  with  all  my 
classmates,  and  the  pleasure  of  knowing  that  they  regarded 
me  as  one  of  themselves,  instead  of  thinking  of  me  as  living 
apart  and  taking  no  interest  in  the  everyday  nothings  of  their 
life,  as  I  had  sometimes  feared  they  did.  I  have  often  been 
surprised  to  hear  this  opinion  expressed  or  rather  implied  by 
girls  of  my  own  age  and  even  by  people  advanced  in  years. 
Once  some  one  wrote  to  me  that  in  his  mind  I  was  always  "sweet 
and  earnest,"  thinking  only  of  what  is  wise,  good  and  interesting 
—  as  if  he  thought  I  was  one  of  those  wearisome  saints  of  whom 
there  are  only  too  many  in  the  world  !  I  always  laugh  at 
these  foolish  notions,  and  assure  my  friends  that  it  is  much  better 
to  have  a  few  faults  and  be  cheerful  and  responsive  in  spite  of 
all  deprivations  than  to  retire  into  one's  shell,  pet  one's  affliction, 
clothe  it  with  sanctity,  and  then  set  one's  self  up  as  a  monument 
of  patience,  virtue,  goodness  and  all  in  all;  but  even  while 
i  laugh  I  feel  a  twinge  of  pain  in  my  heart,  because  it  seems 
rather  hard  to  me  that  any  one  should  imagine  that  I  do  not 
feel  the  tender  bonds  which  draw  me  to  my  young  sisters— 
the  sympathies  springing  from  what  we  have  in  common- 
youth,  hope,  a  half-eager,  half-  timid  attitude  towards  the  life 
before  us  and  above  all  the  royalty  of  maidenhood. 

Sainte-Beuve  says,  "//  went  ^^•n  age  peut-hre  quand  on  n'ecrit 
plus."  This  is  the  only  allusion  I  have  read  to  the  possibility  that 
the  sources  of  literature,  varied  and  infinite  as  they  seem  now, 
may  sometime  be  exhausted.  It  surprises  me  to  find  that  such 
an  idea  has  crossed  the  mind  of  any  one,  especially  of  a  highly 
gifted  critic.  The  very  fact  that  the  nineteenth  century  has 
not  produced  many  authors  whom  the  world  may  count  among 
the  greatest  of  all  time  does  not  in  my  opinion  justify  the  remarkf 
"There  may  come  a  time  when  people  cease  to  write." 

In  the  first  place,  the  fountains  of  literature  are  fed  by  two 
vast  worlds,  one  of  action,  one  of  thought,  by  a  succession  of 
creations  in  the  one  and  of  changes  in  the  other.  New  experiences 
and  events  call  forth  new  ideas  and  stir  men  to  ask  questions 
unthought  of  before,  and  seek  a  definite  answer  in  the  depths 
•of  human  knowledge. 

In  the  second  place,  if  it  is  true  that  as  manv  centuries  musfc 


A    SUPPLEMENTARY    ACCOUNT 

pass  before  the  world  becomes  perfect  as  passed  before  it  becama 
what  it  is  to-day,  literature  will  surely  be  enriched  incalculably 
by  ttie  tremendous  changes,  acquisitions  and  improvements 
that  cannot  fail  to  take  place  in  the  distant  future.  If  genius 
has  been  silent  for  a  century  it  has  not  been  idle.  On  the 
contrary,  it  has  been  collecting  fresh  materials  not  only  from 
the  remote  past,  but  also  from  the  age  of  progress  and  develop 
ment,  and  perhaps  in  the  new  century  there  will  be  outbursts 
of  splendor  in  all  the  various  branches  of  literature.  At 
present  the  world  is  undergoing  a  complete  revolution,  and  in 
the  tnidst  of  falling  systems  and  empires,  conflicting  theories 
and  creeds,  discoveries  and  inventions,  it  is  a  marvel  how  one 
can  produce  any  great  literary  works  at  all.  This  is  an  age  of 
workers,  not  of  thinkers.  The  Song  to-day  is: 

Let  the  dead  past  bury  its  dead. 
Act,  act  in  the  living  present. 
Heart  within  and  God  overhead 

A  little  later,  when  the  rash  and  heat  of  achievement  relax,  we 
can  begin  to  expect  the  appearance  of  grand  men  to  celebrate 
in  glorious  poetry  and  prose  the  deeds  and  triumphs  of  the 
last  few  centuries. 

It  is  very  interesting  to  watch  a  plant  grow,  it  is  like  taking 
part  in  creation.  When  all  outside  is  cold  and  white,  when  the 
little  children  of  the  woodland  are  gone  to  their  nurseries  in  the 
warm  earth,  and  the  empty  nests  on  the  bare  trees  fill  with  snow, 
my  window-garden  glows  and  smiles,  making  summer  within 
while  it  is  winter  without.  It  is  wonderful  to  see  flowers  bloom 
in  the  midst  of  a  snow-storm!  I  have  felt  a  bud  "shyly  doff 
her  green  hood  and  blossom  with  a  silken  burst  of  sound," 
while  the  icy  fingers  of  the  snow  beat  against  the  window- 
panes.  What  secret  power,  I  wonder,  caused  this  blossoming 
miracle?  What  mysterious  force  guided  the  seedling  from 
the  dark  earth  up  to  the  light,  through  leaf  and  stem  and  bud, 
to  glorious  fulfilment,  in  the  perfect  flower  ?  Who  could  have 
dreamed  that  such  beauty  lurked  in  the  dark  earth,  was  latent 
in  the  tiny  seed  we  planted  ?  Beautiful  flower,  you  have  taught 
me  to  see  a  little  way  into  the  hidden  heart  of  things.  Now 
I  understand  that  the  darkness  everywhere  may  hold  possi 
bilities  better  #>ven  than  my  hopes. 


LITERARY  STYLE  4*5 

A    FREE    TRANSLATION    FROM   HOJIACH 

BOOK  II — 18. 

I  am  not  one  of  those  on  whom  fortune  deigns  to  smile.  My 
house  is  not  resplendent  with  ivory  and  gold;  nor  is  it  adorned 
with  marble  arches,  resting  on  graceful  columns  brought  from 
the  quarries  of  distant  Africa.  For  me  no  thrifty  spinners 
weave  purple  garments.  I  have  not  unexpectedly  fallen  heir 
to  princely  estates,  titles  or  power;  but  I  have  something  more 
to  be  desired  than  all  the  world's  treasures — the  love  of  my 
friends,  and  honorable  fame,  won  by  my  own  industry  and 
talents.  Despite  my  poverty,  it  is  my  privilege  to  be  the 
companion  of  the  rich  and  mighty.  I  am  too  grateful  for  all 
these  blessings  to  wish  for  more  from  princes,  or  from  the  gods 
My  little  Sabine  farm  is  dear  to  me;  for  here  I  spend  my  happiest 
days,  far  from  the  noise  and  strife  of  the  world. 

O,  ye  who  live  in  the  midst  of  luxury,  who  seek  beautiful 
marbles  for  new  villas,  that  shall  surpass  the  old  in  splendor, 
you  never  dream  that  the  shadow  of  death  is  hanging  over  your 
halls.  Forgetful  of  the  tomb,  you  lay  the  foundation  of  youi 
palaces.  In  your  mad  pursuit  of  pleasure  you  rob  the  sea  o* 
its  beach  and  desecrate  hallowed  ground.  More  even  than  this, 
in  your  wickedness  you  destroy  the  peaceful  homes  of  your 
clients  !  Without  a  touch  of  remorse  you  drive  the  father  frorr) 
his  land,  clasping  to  his  bosom  his  household  gods  and  his 
half-naked  children. 

You  forget  that  death  comes  to  the  rich  and  the  poor  alike, 
and  comes  once  for  all;  but  remember,  Acheron  could  not  be 
bribed  by  gold  to  ferry  the  crafty  Prometheus  back  to  the  sunlit 
world.  Tantalus,  too,  great  as  he  was  above  all  mortals,  went 
down  to  the  kingdom  of  the  dead,  never  to  return.  Remember, 
too,  that,  although  death  is  inexorable,  yet  he  is  just;  for 
he  brings  retribution  to  the  rich  for  their  wickedness,  and  gives 
the  poor  eternal  rest  from  their  toil  and  sorrow. 


Ah,  the  pranks  that  the  nixies  of  Dreamland  play  on  \ts 
while  we  sleep  I  Methinks  "they  are  jesters  at  the  Court  ot 
Heaven."  They  frequently  take  the  shape  of  daily  themes  to 
mock  me;  they  strut  about  on  the  stage  of  Sleep  like  foolish 
only  they  carry  well-trimmed  note-books  in 


430        A  SUPPLEMENTARY  ACCOUNT 

hands  instead  of  empty  lamps.  At  other  times  they  examine 
and  cross-examine  me  in  all  the  studies  I  have  ever  had,  and 
invariably  ask  me  questions  as  easy  to  answer  as  this:  "What 
was  the  name  of  the  first  mouse  that  woeried  Hippopotamus, 
satrap  of  Cambridge  under  Astyagas,  grandfather  of  Cyrus 
the  Great  ?"  I  wake  terror-stricken  with  the  words  ringing 
in  my  ears,  "An  answer  or  your  life !" 

Such  are  the  distorted  fancies  that  flit  through  the  mind  of 
one  who  is  at  college  and  lives  as  I  do  in  an  atmosphere  of 
ideas,  conceptions  and  half- thoughts,  half-feelings  which  tumble 
and  jostle  each  other  until  one  is  almost  crazy.  I  rarely  have 
dreams  that  are  not  in  keeping  with  what  I  really  think  and  feel, 
but  one  night  my  very  nature  seemed  to  change,  and  I  stood 
in  the  eye  of  the  world  a  mighty  man  and  a  terrible.  Naturally 
I  love  peace  and  hate  war  and  all  that  pertains  to  war;  I  see 
nothing  admirable  in  the  ruthless  career  of  Napoleon,  save  its 
finish.  Nevertheless,  in  that  dream  the  spirit  of  that  pitiless 
slayer  of  men  entered  me  !  I  shall  never  forget  how  the  fury  ot 
battle  throbbed  in  my  veins — it  seemed  as  if  the  tumultuous 
beating  of  my  heart  would  stop  my  breath.  I  rode  a  fiery 
hunter — I  can  feel  the  impatient  toss  of  his  head  now  and 
the  quiver  that  ran  through  him  at  the  first  roar  of  the  cannon. 

From  the  top  of  the  hill  where  I  stood  I  saw  my  army  surging 
over  a  sunlit  plain  like  angry  breakers,  and  as  they  moved,  I 
saw  the  green  of  fields,  like  the  cool  hollows  between  billows. 
Trumpet  answered  trumpet  above  the  steady  beat  of  drums 
and  the  rhythm  of  marching  feet.  I  spurred  my  panting 
steed  and  waving  my  sword  on  high  and  shouting,  "I  come  C 
Behold  me,  warriors — Europe  !"  I  plunged  into  the  oncoming 
billows,  as  a  strong  swimmer  dives  into  breakers,  and  struck, 
alas,  'tis  true,  the  bedpost ! 

Now  I  rarely  sleep  without  dreaming;  but  before  Miss  Sullivan 
came  to  me,  my  dreams  were  few  and  far  between,  devoid 
of  thought  or  coherency,  except  those  -yi  a  purely  physical 
nature.  In  my  dreams  something  was  always  falling  suddenly 
and  heavily,  and  at  times  my  nurse  seemed  to  punish  me  for  my 
unkind  treatment  of  her  in  the  daytime  and  return  at  an  usurer's 
rate  of  interest  my  kickings  and  pinchings.  I  would  wake 
with  a  start  or  struggle  frantically  to  escape  from  my  tormentor. 
I  was  very  fond  of  bananas,  and  one  night  I  dreamed  that  I 
found  a  long  string  of  them  in  the  dining-room,  near  the  cup- 


LITERARY   STYLE  431 

board,  all  peeled  and  deliciously  ripe,  and  all  I  had  to  do  was 
to  stand  under  the  string  and  eat  as  long  as  I  could  eat. 

After  Miss  Sullivan  came  to  me,  the  more  I  learned,  the 
oftener  I  dreamed;  but  with  the  waking  of  my  mind  there  cama 
many  dreary  fancies  and  vague  terrors  which  troubled  my  sleep 
for  a  long  time.  I  dreaded  the  darkness  and  loved  the  wood- 
fire.  Its  warm  touch  seemed  so  like  a  human  caress,  I  really 
thought  it  was  a  sentient  being,  capable  of  loving  and  protecting 
me.  One  cold  winter  night  I  was  alone  in  my  room.  Miss 
Sullivan  had  put  out  the  light  and  gone  away,  thinking  I  was 
sound  asleep.  Suddenly  I  felt  my  bed  shake,  and  a  wolf  seemed 
to  spring  on  me  and  snarl  in  my  face.  It  was  only  a  dream,  but 
I  thought  it  real,  and  my  heart  sank  within  me.  I  dared  not 
scream,  and  I  dared  not  stay  in  bed.  Perhaps  this  was  a  con 
fused  recollection  of  the  story  I  had  heard  not  long  before 
about  Red  Riding  Hood.  At  all  events,  I  slipped  down  from  the 
bed  and  nestled  close  to  the  fire  which  had  not  flickered  out. 
The  instant  I  felt  its  warmth  I  was  reassured,  and  I  sat  a  long 
time  watching  it  climb  higher  and  higher  in  shining  waves. 
At  last  sleep  surprised  me,  and  when  Miss  Sullivan  returned 
she  found  me  wrapped  in  a  blanket  by  the  hearth. 

Often  when  I  dream,  thoughts  pass  through  my  mind  like 
cowled  shadows,  silent  and  remote,  and  disappear.  Perhaps 
they  are  the  ghosts  of  thoughts  that  once  inhabited  the  mind  of 
an  ancestor.  At  other  times  the  things  I  have  learned  and  the 
things  I  have  been  taught,  drop  away,  as  the  lizard  sheds  it? 
skin,  and  I  see  my  soul  as  God  sees  it.  There  are  also  rare  and 
beautiful  moments  when  I  see  and  hear  in  Dreamland.  What 
if  in  my  waking  hours  a  sound  should  ring  through  the  silent 
"Halls  of  hearing  ?  What  if  a  ray  of  light  should  flash  through 
the  darkened  chambers  of  my  soul  ?  What  would  happen,  I 
ask  many  and  many  a  time.  Would  the  bow-and-string  tension 
of  life  snap?  Would  the  heart,  overweighted  with  sudde* 
joy,  stop  beating  for  very  excess  of  happiness  ? 


INDEX 


ABSTRACT  Ideas,  30-31,  350, 
358-359,  365-  See  also  In 
nate  ideas  and  Religion. 

Adams,  Benjamin,  4. 

Adams,  Charles,  4. 

Mneid,  in,  245,  251,  253. 

Alden,  Mr.  William  L.,  236. 

Alexander,  Mr.  Wm.  V.,  see 
Editor's  Preface. 

Algebra,  study  of,  90-95,  241- 
242,  248. 

Allen,  Mr.  E.  E.,  99,  292. 

Alphabet,  see  Manual. 

American    Annals    of    the    Deaf, 

4T5; 

American  Association  to  Pro 
mote  the  Teaching  of  Speech 
to  the  Deaf,  meeting  at 
Chautauqua,  80,  224,  300; 
extracts  from  Miss  Sulli 
van's  paper  before,  374- 
377,386-387;  Helen  Keller's 
address  at  meeting  at  Mt. 

,     Airy,  392-393. 

Anagnos,  Mr.  Michael,  19,  63- 
71,  108,  180,  193,  299,  300, 
502,  311,  324,  344;  letter 
trom,  415;  letters  to,  148, 


3 

fr 

151,  154,  162,  168,  405. 
Andersen,    Hans    Christian,    399. 
Andover,  visit  to,  202,  399. 
Anna,    Cousin    (Mrs.    George   T. 

Turner),  letter  to,  145. 
Arabian  Nights,  The,  108. 
Arithmetic,  study  of,  36,  8l, 

175,239,339,364-365. 
As  You  Like  It,  85. 
Astronomy,    study    of,    90,    165. 


BACON'S  Essays,  265. 


Bell,  Dr.  Alexander  Graham, 
20,  67,  75,  76,  137-138,  155. 
196,  216,  219,  235,  268-269, 
274,  277,  278,  346,  395; 
letter  to,  148. 

Belle,      "our     dog,"      13,     312- 

3I3- 
Bennett,    Miss    Delia,    letter   to, 

165. 

Bible,  99,  111-113,  283. 
Bible  Stories,  108. 
Bicycle,  125,  243-244. 
Birdie    and    His    Fairy    Friends, 

65,  401-413. 
Slack  Beauty,  53,  362. 
Blind     Girls,     letters     to,     146, 

147. 
Bok,     Mr.     Edward     W.,     see 

Editor's  Preface. 
Books,     105-118,    367,    376-377, 

379-38o,         395-     See         also 
Language,     Method,    Style,    and 

specific  titles. 
Botany,  study  of,  36,  364. 
Boy  I  Knew,  A,  138. 
Bradford,      Mrs.      George      H., 

letter  to,  232. 
Bradstreet,     Messrs.,     letter    to, 

191. 
Braille,    84,    90,    152,    275,    284, 

292,     324,     339;    difficulty    of, 

in    examinations,    93-95,    259^- 

260. 

Braille  Machine,  285,  292. 
Bridgman,    Laura,    17,    22,    279, 

290,    297-298,    302,    330,    368. 
Brooks,    Phillips,    133,    215,    372, 

399;    letter   from,    187;    letters 

tO,   185,  200,  203. 

^Bryant,    William      Cullen,      82, 
362-363. 


433 


434 


INDEX 


Bunker  Hill,  visit  to,  45. 

Burke's     Speech    on    Conciliation 

with  America,  85-86. 
Burroughs,  Mr.  John,  139,  233. 


CESAR,  study  of,  79,  223. 
Cambridge     School     for     Young 

Ladies,  83-92,  237-240. 
Campbell,  Mildred,  6. 
Canby,    Miss    Margaret    T.,    65- 

68,    401;     letters    from,    402- 

4°3- 

Cards,  playing,  126. 
Carlyle,  117. 

Castle  of  Otranto,  The,  231. 
Chambered  Nautilus,  The,  37. 
Chamberlin,     Mr.     J.     E.,     121- 

122,  236,  391. 

Chamberlin,  Mrs.  J.  E.,  236. 

Checkers,  126. 

Chess,  126. 

Children,  love  of,  126. 

Chisholm,  Dr.,  20. 

Christmas,      first,      41-42,      150, 

342-343- 

Church,  first  visit  to,  347-348. 

Cicero,  255. 

Circus,  340-341. 

Clemens,  Mr.  Samuel  L.,  117, 
138,  139,  227,  228,  286. 

Clement,  Mr.  Edward  H., 
letter  to,  209. 

Cleveland,  Mr.  Grover,  155. 

Cleveland,  Mrs.  Grover,  letter 
to,  211. 

Colomba,  262,  264. 

Colour,  idea  of,  149,  288,  335, 
339-34?. 

Communication.  See  Conver 
sation,  Manual  Alphabet, 
Signs,  Speech. 

Conversation,  knowledge  gained 
from,  289;  theme  on,  426. 

Copeland,  Mr.  Charles  Town- 
send,  100,  418,  425;  letter 
to,  272. 

Corneille,  97,  264. 

Cornell  University,  266. 

Crouter,  Dr.,  235. 


DEATH,    idea    of,    344,    3S4~355. 
Derby,     Miss     Caroline,     letters 

to,     207,     210,      214,     219,     223, 
224,     225,     231,     233,     234,     244. 

Diary,  see  Journals. 

Dickens'     American     Notes,      17; 

A   Child's   History   of  England, 

108,  367. 
Dodge,   Mrs.   Mary   Mapes,   139, 

231. 

Dog  Show,  226. 
Dogs,  125. 

"  Doll,"  22-24,  305-306. 
Donald,  Miss  Dora,  255. 
Dreams,  429-431. 
Drummond,  Mr.  Henry,  135. 

ECLOGUES,  Virgil's,  251,  253. 
Economics,  study  of,  100. 
Education,      Chapter     on,      297- 

383.     See       also       for    specific 

discussions,     Books,     Language 

Method,  Style. 
Elizabethan      Literature,      study 

of,  100. 

Emerton's  Middle  Ages,  115. 
Endicott,      Mr.      William,      46, 

189. 
English,    study    of,    83,    97,    99, 

100,       224,       273.     See       also 

Style. 

Enoch  Arden,  197. 
Everett,  Edward,  4. 
Everett,  Lucy  Helen,  4. 
Examinations.     See  Radcliffe. 

FAERY  QUEEN,  The,  264. 
Fern  Quarry,  50-54,  63. 
Fire,  experience  with,  13. 
Freeman's     History     of     Europe^ 

115. 
French       Literature,      comments 

on,  116. 
French,    study    of,    78,    80,    97, 

161-163,  380. 
Freytag's   Aus  dem   Staat  Fried' 

richs  des  Grossen,  85. 
Frost    Fairies,    The,   64-68,    40 ij 

story     quoted     in     full,     406- 

413- 


INDEX 


435 


King"  episode,  The, 
204;  Editor's  discussion  of, 
417—419;  Helen  Keller's 
account  of,  63-72,  73;  Miss 
Sullivan's  account  of,  396- 
415. 

Frost  King,  The,  Helen 
Keller's,  406-413. 

Fuller,  Mrs.  S.  R.,  letter  to, 
258. 

Fuller,  Miss  Sarah,  59-60,  384, 
387;  letter  to,  183. 

Furness,  Dr.  H.  H.,  287. 


GAMES.     See  Cards,  Checkers, 

Chess,  etc. 
Garcelon,  Dr.,  349. 
Geography,   study  of,   35-36, 

364. 
Geometry,    study    of,    90-94, 

241-242, 
German  Literature,  comments 

on,  116,  117. 
German,  study  of,  80,  83,  97, 

380. 
Gilder,  Mr.   Richard  Watson, 

138,   139. 
Gilman,    Mr.    Arthur,    83—92, 

237,     240,     260—261,     296, 

383. 
Gilman,  Dr.  Daniel  C.,  extract 

from  letter  to  Miss  Sullivan, 

301. 
Goethe ,  9  7 ;  A  us  Meinem  Leben, 

85;  Faust,  1 16. 
Goodhue,  Susanna  E.,  4. 
Goodson  Gazette,  The,  40 1 , 
Great  Round  World,  The,  letter 

to,  276. 

Greece,  interest  in,  109-110. 
•'Greek       Heroes"       (Charles 

Kingsley 's  The  Heroes') ,  1 08 , 

369- 
Greek,  study  of,  90,  no— in, 

241,   253. 
Green's  A  Short  History  of  the 

English    People,    115,    265, 

292. 
Greer,  Dr.  David  H.,  263-264, 

268;  letter  to,  253. 


Grote,  Frati,  84,  261. 
Government,  study  of,  too. 


HAGUEWOOD, Miss  Linnie,  255. 
Hale,  Dr.  Edward  E.,  4,  136- 

137, 139,  258,  346;  letters  to, 

151,  166,  181,  223,  278. 
Halifax,  visit  to,  120-121,277- 

278. 

Hammond.     See     Typewriter. 
Hands,    recognition    of,    133, 

286. 

Harbaugh,  Miss,  91. 
Hawthorne's      The      Wonder 

Book,  108. 
Heady,  Mr.  Morrison,  letter* 

to,  153,  159. 
Heidi,  1 08. 
Heine's  Harzreise,  85. 
Henry  Esmond,  265. 
Herrick,  Robert,  117. 
Higinbotham,  Mr.  H.  N.,  76, 

218—219. 
History,  study  of,  83,  97,  115^ 

116,   224. 
Hitz,  Mr.  John,  255,  384;  let* 

ters  to,  212,  234,  239,  249, 

259,      264,     267.      See   also 

E'ditor^s  Preface. 
Hoar,  Hon.  George  F.,  letter 

to,  280. 
Holmes,  Mr.  John  H.,  letter 

to,  201. 
Holmes,  Dr.   Oliver  Wendell, 

135-136;  extract  from  poem, 

"Spring,"  398;  letters  from, 

189^4.24;  letters  to,  182, 19$, 

202. 
Homer,  254;  "medallion  of,  127-* 

128,     See  Greek ,  Iliad. 
Hood,  Thomas,  117. 
Hooker,  Miss,  218. 
Hopkins,  Sophia  C.,  67,  301^ 

401 ;  Helen  Keller's  letter  to, 

164;  Miss  Sullivan's  letters 

to,  3°3-337,   340-352-     See 
also  Editor's  Preface. 
Horace,    Odes    of,    100,    264; 
Helen    Keller's    translation 
from,  429. 


INDEX 


Howe,  Dr.  Samuel  Gridley,  17, 
578-279,  280,  297-298,  302, 

378. 
Howells,   Mr.   William   Dean, 

87,  138,  227,  228,  238. 
Hugo,  1 1 6. 
Humason,  Dr.  T.  A.,  225,  226, 

385. 

Huss,  examination  on,  10*- 
103. 

Hutton,  Mr.  Laurence,  138, 
227,  228,  231. 

Hutton,  Mrs.  Laurence,  138, 
140,  231,  268,  295;  letters 
to,  229,  237,  239,  240,  241, 
242,  244, 248, 252, 255, 257, 
263,  266,  274.  See  also 
Editor's  Preface. 


ILIAD,  no,  in,  241,  245,  251, 

Jn  Memoriam,  79. 

Inches,  Mrs,  Charles  E.,  letter 

to,  221. 

Innate  ideals,  293—294. 
Irons,  Rev.  John  D.,  78-79, 

221. 

.Irving,  Sir  Henry,  128,  231. 
Irving,    Washington,    82. 
Irwin,  Miss  Agnes,  258,  287. 
/vanhoe,  232. 
Ivy  Green,  5,  308. 

JEFFERSON,  Mr.  Joseph    128- 

130,  287. 

Johnson,  Samuel,  86. 
Journals,  extracts  from  Helen 

Keller's,  296,  346-347,  360- 

361,  414-41$. 
Jungle  Book,  The,  109, 253, 394 


KAATA,  Miss  Ragnhild,  59, 184, 

256. 
Keith,  Mr.  Merton  S.,  92-95, 

240,  240-242,  245,  248,  255, 

261,  296,  383. 
Keller,  Captain  Arthur  H.,  4, 

I4-I5»   237»  3°4,  3°9,  3", 

343.  344,  347~348. 


Keller,  Caspar,  3. 

Keller,  Miss  Evelina  H.,  lettei 
to,  163. 

Keller,  "Grandfather,"  4. 

Keller,  Helen,  ancestry,  3; 
birth,  3;  characteristics,  6, 
14,  17,  287-288,  294-296, 
304-305,  323,  355-357,  363- 
364;  christening,  6;  early 
home,  4;  first  lesson,  22,  305; 
Frost  King  episode,  63-72, 
396-419;  illness,  7;  j'ourney 
to  Baltimore,  18;  journey 
to  Boston,  43;  knowledge 
before  education,  10,  21, 
304,  307;  knowledge  gained 
from  conversation,  289; 
knowledge  of  life,  295; 
knowledge  of  visible  world, 
289—290,  357;  plan  to  estab 
lish  an  institution  for  deaf 
and  blind  children,  267—269; 
pleasures,  119-131;  post 
pones  entering  Radcliffe, 
258;  studies  at  Hulton, 
Penn.,  78-79,  221;  studies 
at  Wright-Humason  School, 
80-82,  224-226;  studies 
under  Mr.  Merton  S.  Keith, 
240-242,  244-245,  248, 253- 
255;  tea  for  kindergarten, 
206-209;  visit  to  Andover, 
202 ;  visit  to  Cincinnati,  348- 
349;  visit  to  Halifax,  120, 
277-278;  visit  to  Memphis, 
150-152,  345-346;  visit  to 
Niagara,  74,  215-217;  visit 
to  Plymouth,  45,  159-161; 
visit  to  World's  Fair,  75-77, 
218-220;  work  for  Tommy 
Stringer,  196—202; 

Keller,    Dr.  James,  333,  346, 

347,  349- 

Keller,  Mr.  James,  303,  305,, 
308. 

Keller,  Mrs.  Kate  Adams,  4,  9, 
87,  221,  303,  304,  308, 
343-344;  letters  to,  i45i 
158, 178, 179, 192,  216,  227 

Keller,  Miss  Mildred,  16,  87 
333-334  J  letters  to,  175.  261 


INDEX 


437 


Keller,   Phillips  Brooks,   210, 

212. 

Keller's  Landing,  35,  321 
Khayyam,   see  Omar. 
King  Lear,  113. 
King  of  No-land,  231. 
Kipling,  Mr.  Rudyard,  253. 
Kipling's-  Dreaming  True,  248; 

Jungle  Book,  109,  253,  394. 
Kittredge,    Professor     George 

Lyman,  100,  115. 
Knowledge,  before  education, 

10,  21,  304,  307;  of  life,  295; 

of    visible    world,    289-290, 

357- 

* Knowledge   is  power,"  104. 
Krehl,  Mr.   George  R.,  letter 

to,  197 


LADIES*  HOME  JOURNAL,  71; 
see  also  Editor's  Preface. 

La  Fontaine's  Fables,  78,  108, 
IOQ. 

Lamb's  Tales  from  Shakes* 
peare,  108,  395. 

Lamson,  Mrs.  Mary  Swift,  59, 
298  footnote. 

Language,  absorption  of,  106, 
161-162,  318,  375,  378,  397 
See     also     Books,     Method, 
Style. 

Latin,  study  of,  79,  83,  90,  in, 
223,  245,  253,  255,  380., 

Lee,  Robert  E.,  4. 

Leslie,  Miss  Elsie,  130. 

Lessing's  Minna  von  Barn- 
helm,  85. 

Letters  from  Helen  Keller  to 
Mr.  Michael  Anagnos,  148, 
151,  154,  162,  168,  405;  Dr. 
Alexander  G.  Bell,  148; 
Miss  Delia  Bennett,  165; 
Blind  Girls  at  Perkins  Insti 
tution,  146,  147;  Mrs.  George 
B.  Bradford,  232;  Messrs. 
Bradstreet,  191;  Phillips 
Brooks,  185,  200,  203;  Mr. 
Edward  H.  Clement,  209; 
Mrs.  Grover  Cleveland,  211; 


Letters  from  Helen  Keller  ta 
Mr.  Charles  T.  Copeland, 
272;  Miss  Caroline  Derby, 
207,  210,  214,  219,  223,  2244, 
225,  231,  233,  234,  244; 
Miss  Sarah  Fuller,  183;  Mrs. 
Samuel  R.  Fuller,  258;  The 
Great  Round  World,  276; 
Dr.  David  H.  Greer,  253; 
Dr.  E.  E.  Hale,  151,  166, 
181,  223,  278;  Mr.  Morrison 
Heady,  153,  159;  Mr.  John 
Hitz,  212,  434,  239,  249, 
259,  264,  267  ;  Senator 
George  F.  Hoar,  280;  Mr. 
John  H.  Holmes,  201;  Dr. 
Oliver  Wendell  Holmes,  182, 
198,  202;  Mrs.  Sophia  C. 
Hop  kins,  1 64;  Mrs.  Laurence 
Hutton,  229,  237,  239,  240, 
241,  242,  244,  248,  252, 
255,  257,  263,  266,  274; 
Mrs.  Charles  E.  Inches,  221; 
Miss  Evelina  H.  Keller,  163; 
Mrs.  Kate  Adams  Keller, 
145, 158, 178, 179, 192, 2i6v 
227;  Miss  Mildred  Keller, 
175,  261;  Mr.  George  R. 
Krehl,  197;  Miss  Fannie  S. 
Marrett,  170  ;  Sir  John 
Everett  Millais,  199;  Miss 
Mary  C.  Moore,  156;  Mr. 
Albert  H.  Munsell,  204; 
Chairman  of  Academic 
Board  of  Radcliffe  College, 
265;  Miss  Nina  Rhoades, 
277;  Miss  ^  Mary  E.  Riley, 
171;  St.  Nicholas,  206;  John 
P.  Spaulding,  208;  Miss 
Anne  M.  Sullivan,  173; 
Mrs.  William  Thaw,  230, 
238,  246,  247;  Miss  Sarah 
Tomlinson,  149;  Mrs.  George 
T.  Turner,  145;  Mr. 
William  Wade,  176,  251, 
255,  271,  275;  Charles 
Dudley  Warner,  236, 
243;  John  G,  Whittier, 
177,  194;  Mr.  John  D. 
Wright,  269, 


438 


INDEX 


Letters  from  Miss  Sullivan  to 

Mrs.     Sophia    C.     Hopkins, 
T  3°r-337»  340-352. 
Letters,  style  of  Helen  Keller's, 

143-144. 
Letters  to  Helen  Keller  from 

Phillips    Brooks,     187;    Dr. 

Oliver  Wendell  Holmes,  189; 

John     Greenleaf     Whittier, 

J95- 

Liberty,  visit  to  Statue  of,  225. 
Library  at   Tuscumbia,    221- 

222. 
Line  Print,  "embossed  print," 

292. 
Lip-reading,   61,  81,  224-226, 

391 ;  see  also  Speech. 
Literature.     See  Books,   Eng 
lish,  French,  German,  Greek, 

Latin,  Style. 

"  Little  Jakey,"  182,  186. 
Little    Lord    Fauntleroy,     68, 

106—108,  162—163,  169,  416— 

417. 
Little  Red  Riding  Hood,  341, 

43i- 

Little  Women,  108. 
Longfellow,  221,  396  footnote. 
/'Love,"  29. 
Lowell,  J.  R.,  117. 


MABIE,  Mr.  H.  W.,  233. 
Macaulay's   Samuel  Johnson , 

85-86. 

Macbeth,  113,  114,  295. 
McGirr,  Miss  Katie,  272. 
Magazine   for  the  blind,  275- 

277. 
**  Maine     Memorial     College, " 

248—249. 
Manual  alphabet,  62,  98,  238, 

251—252,  256,  291—292. 
Manual    skill,    290—291,    390, 

Marrett,  Miss  Fannie  S.,  letter 

to,   170. 
Mathematics.      See      Algebra, 

Arithmetic,   Geometry. 
Meath,  Earl  of,  and  Lady,  178, 

181,   197. 


Medecin  Malgr/  Lui,  Let   78, 

80,  234. 
Memory,  of  people,  286 ;  tactile, 

293.     See  Hands,  Touch. 
Memphis,    visit    to,    150-152, 

345-346. 
Merime'e,  116. 
Method,   Miss   Sullivan's,    22, 

29-32,  34,  38-40,  301,  308, 

3*3-3*4*  3*5»  3J7>  32°-32I» 

33°,  332,  34i,  342-343.  35*. 

358-359,  36S-366,  37Q-371. 

375-377;  Editor  s  discussion 

of,  378-383,  395. 
Metropolitan  Club,  227. 
Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  A, 

265. 
Millais,      Sir     John     Everett, 

letter  to,  199. 

Milton,  98;  Paradise  Lost,  420. 
Moliere,     97,     116;     Medecin 

Malgre*  Lui,  78,  80,  234. 
Moore,  Alexander,  4. 
Moore,    Miss    Mary  C.,  letter 

to,  156. 

Morse,  Professor,  220. 
Munsell,  Mr.  Albert  H.,  217, 

291;  letter  to,  204. 
Museums,  experiences  in,  126- 

127,  249-250,  290. 
Music,     knowledge     of,     288— 

289;  study  of,  224. 
Musset,  Alfred  de,  97. 


"NANCY,"  43~44,     i52»     310- 

Nature,  enjoyment  of,  122- 
125;  lessons  in,  25,  34—38, 
321,  325-326,  332,  369- 
370;  theme  on,  428. 

Niagara,  visit  to,  74,  215-217. 

North  Alabamian,  The,  222. 


ODYSSEY,  253. 

Old  Mortality,  231. 

Olivier,  Madame,  80. 

Omar    Khayyam,  theme  on, 

425-426. 

Our  World,  47,  105. 
Over  the  Teacups,  181. 


INDEX 


439 


PERKINS  Institution,  44,  106; 
.  See  also  M.  Anagnos,  5.  G. 
Howe,  and  Reports. 

Personality,  286-296.  See 
under  Helen  Keller,  charac 
teristics. 

Philosophy,  study  of,  100. 

Physics,  study  of,  90. 

Plague,  The,  Defoe's,  239. 

Play,  education  by  means  of, 
318,  322,  326,  380,  382. 

"Players,   The,"   239. 

Pleasures,  119-131. 

Plymouth,  visit  to,  45,  159- 
161. 

Politics,  interest  in,  280. 

Poultry  Show,  233. 

Pratt,  Mrs.  A.  C.,  391. 

Prince  and  the  Pauper,  The, 
130. 

Pronouns,  use  of,  336. 


RACINE,  97,  116. 

Radcliffe  College,  96-104,  274, 
283;  Miss  Agnes  Irwin,  dean 
of,  258,  287;  examinations 
for,  87-89,  93-95,  240,  257, 
259—260;  examinations  in, 
1 01-10  2 ;  letter  to  the  Chair 
man  of  the  Academic  Board, 
265;  theme  ^on,  426-427. 

Reader  for  Beginners,  33. 

Reading,  exercises  in,  67,  331, 
338~339>  3 66;  manner  of, 
293—294;  raised  print,  292— 
293.  See  Books. 

Reamy,  Miss,  So. 

Red  Farm.     See  Wrentham. 

Religion,  134-135.  368-374. 
See  also  Phillips  Brooks. 

Reports  of  Perkins  Institu 
tion,  299,  300,  334,  335, 
344;  extracts  from,  302, 
302-303,  337-340,  352-374, 
387-391. 

^Rhoades,  Mr.  J.  Harsen,  268. 

Rhoades,  Miss  Nina,  263,  872; 
letter  to,  277. 

Ricev  Ruby,  271. 


Riggs,  Mrs.  Kate  Douglas 
Wiggin,  139,  228,  229,  231. 

Riley,  Miss  Mary  E.,  letter  to, 
171. 

Rip   Van  Winkle,   128-130. 

Rivals,   The,   129. 

Robinson  Crusoe,   108,  394. 

Rogers,  Mr.  Henry  H.,  228, 
268. 

Roosevelt,  Mr,  Theodore,  263, 

391- 
Rose    Fairies,     The,     extract 

from,  403—404. 
Roses,  5—6,  169. 
Rowing,  119,  120,  244. 
Royce,  Professor  Josiah,  xoo« 
Ruskin,  John,  213. 


SAILING,  120. 

St.     Bartholomew's     Church, 

263. 

St.  Nicholas,  218;  letter  to,  206. 
Sainte-Beuve,  97,  427. 
Sara  Crew,  193. 
Sargent,  Mr.  John  S.,  252. 
Scarlet  Letter,  The,  106. 
Schiller,  97,  117;  Lied  von  d*/t 

Glocke,     85;     Taucher,     85; 

Wilhelm  Tell,  85,  380 
Scott,  Maud,  271. 
Scott,  Walter,   117. 
Sculptures,      178.       See     alsu 

Museums. 
Sea,    experience   with,   47-49, 

156. 
Sense  impressions,    122,    123- 

124.     See  also  Smell,  Taste, 

Touch. 

Sense  of  time,  294. 
Sense,  sixth,  122,  293. 
Shakespeare,    study    of,    100, 

101,    115. 
Shakespeare's  As  You  Like  lit 

8  5 ;  King  Lear,  113;  Macbeth, 

113,     114,     295;     A     Mid 
summer  Night's  Dream,  265; 

The  Tempest,  265. 
Ship,  visit  to,  179. 
Sign-language,  256,  286, 

423. 


440 


INDEX 


Signs,  tise  of,  9,  17,  304,  319, 

338,  357.  383*  389- 
Silent  Worker,  The,  213. 
Smell,  sense  of,  293,  352. 
Spaulding,   Mr.   John   P.,  82, 

207,232,  233;  letter  to,  208. 
Spaulding,    Mrs.    Mahlon    D., 

207. 
Speech,  Helen  Keller's  account 

of,   58-62;   letters  on,    183, 

224-226,    235;   chapter  on, 

384-393-    . 

Spots  wood,  Alexander,  4. 

Stevenson,  Robert  Louis,  70, 
287;  Treasure  Island,  394. 

Stockton,  Frank  £..,231. 

Storm,  experiences  in,  25—27, 
i 20— 121. 

Stringer,  Tommy,  196-202, 
272. 

Studies.  See  Algebra,  Arith 
metic,  English,  French, 
Geometry,  German,  Greek , 
History,  Latin,  Nature,  etc.; 
also  titles  of  books  in  various 
subjects. 

Style,  63,  64,  69-71;  chapter 
on,  394-431. 

Sullivan,  Miss  Anne  Mansfield, 
14,  20,  21-23,  34,  60,  252, 
300,  302-303,  430,  431;  let 
ters  from,  299,  303-337» 
340-352;  letter  to,  173. 
See  also  Method. 

Swedenborg's  Heaven  and 
Hell,  135. 

Swimming,  119,  244 

Swiiiton's  World's  History ;  115. 

Swiss  Family  Robinson,  Ttiet 
108. 


TADPOLES,  episode  of,  38. 

Taste,  sense  of,  352. 

Tea    for    Kindergarten,    206- 

209 
Teacher.     See  Miss  Anne  M. 

Sullivan. 

Telegraph  alphabet,  368, 
Tempest,  The,  265. 
Terry  Miss  Ellen,  128,  231. 


Thaw,  Mrs.  William,  140,  275? 

letters  to,  230,  238,  246,  247. 
Theatre,  128-130. 
Themes,  extracts  fro*?i  Helen 

Keller's,  425-431. 
"Think,"  30. 
Thomas,  Miss  Edith,  162. 
Tobogganing,  57,  241. 
Tomlinson,  Miss  Sarah,  lette* 

to,  149. 
Touch,  sense  of,  290-291,  352— 

354;  memory  through,  293, 
Trestle,  adventure  on,  54. 
Turner,  Mrs.  George  T.,  letter 

to,  145. 
"Twain,  Mark."   See  Mr.  S.  L. 

Clemens. 
Typewriter,    use    of,    84,    98, 

229-230,  280,  284,  291, 367. 


UNIVERSITY  of  Chicago,  267. 

"VERY,"  320. 

Vining,  Mr.  Eugene  C.,  93,  94, 

2.59- 
Voice-culture,   224,   234.     See 

Speech. 
Volta    Bureau,   383;    souvenit 

of  Helen  Keller,  300;  extract 

from,  396-415. 


WADE,   Mr.   William,   78,  99, 

186,    231,    284;    letters    to, 

176,  251,  255,  271,  275. 
Warner,  Charles  Dudley,  137, 

.138-139,     228,     233,     294; 

letters  to,  236,  243. 
Washington,  Martha,  11—12. 
Watch,  294,  341. 
•'Water,"  6,  22,  23,  58,  316, 

337»  422. 

Westervelt,  Mr.  Z.  P.,  216. 
Whittier,  John  Greenleaf,  117, 

136,  178;   letter  from,  195; 

letters  to,  177,  194. 
Wild  Animals  1  Have  Known, 

109. 
Winter,  description  of,  55-57* 


INDEX 


441 


Wordsworth,  117. 
World's  Fair,  7S~77»  218-220. 
Wrentham,  Massachusetts, 

studies    at,    92;    vacations    at, 


Writing  with  pencil,  145,  206, 
210-21 1,  229,  326,  339,  345, 
See  also  Typewriter. 


YOUTH'S    COMPANION,    The, 


x*/- 

Wnght,  . 

letter    to,    269;    See    Wnght- 

Humason  School. 
Wright-Humason      School,      80- 

82,  2x4-226. 
Writing  of  the  Book,  The,  283-     ZOOLOGY,    study     of,    36, 


Wen 

Keller's    story    in,    419,    420- 
423- 


JohlL    DV!,,  .3?°'         213;      extracts      from 


3*4- 


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